I 


*.  %  ^uilsm. 


'3 


S.  H.  Hudson, 

Benson,  Minnesota 


[ 


GIFT  OF 
IP'  ne   ITudson 


THE  MASTER  OF  BALLAIRAE. 


A  WINTERS  TALE, 


By  ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON, 

Author  of  '•^The  Strange  Case  of  Dr,  Jekyll  and  Mr,  Hyde,''  Etc, 


NEW  TOBK  : 

r.   M.    LUPTON,    PUBLISHER, 
106  AND  108  Readb  Street, 


Irene 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

Summary  of  Events  during  the  Master's  Wanderings,     .  7 
The  Master's  Wanderings  :  From  the  Memoirs  of  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Burke,         ........  36 

Persecutions  Endured  by  Mr.  Henry, 70 

Account  of  all  that  Passed  on  the  Night  of  February 

27,  1757. 106 

Summary  of  Events  during  the  Master's  Second  Absence,  129 
Adventure  of  Chevalier  Burke  in  India  :  Extract  from  his 

Memoirs, ISO 

The  Enemy  in  the  House, 155 

Mr.  Mackellar's  Journey  with  the  Master,      .       .       .179 

Passages  at  New  York, 199 

The  Journey  in  the  Wilderness, «i8 

Narrative  of  the  Trader,  Mountain,  .       »       i       .  «28 

Ths  Journey  in  the  Wilderness— Ci^/r^/MSfi/,        •       .       .  344 


ivi  '7607 


TO 

SIR  PERCY  FLORENCE  AND  LADY  SHELLEY. 


Hers  is  a  tale  which  extends  over  many  years  and  trayels  into  many 
countries.  By  a  peculiar  fitness  of  circumstance  the  writer  began, 
continued  it,  and  concluded  it  among  distant  and  diverse  scenes. 
Above  all,  he  was  much  upon  the  sea.  The  character  and  fortune 
of  the  fraternal  enemies,  the  hall  and  shrubbery  of  Durrisdeer, 
the  problem  of  Mackellar's  homespun  and  how  to  shape  it  for 
superior  flights  ;  these  were  his  company  on  deck  in  many  star- 
reflecting  harbors,  ran  often  in  his  mind  at  sea  to  the  tune  of 
slatting  canvas,  and  were  dismissed  (something  of  the  suddenest) 
on  the  approach  of  squalls.  It  is  my  hope  that  these  surroundings 
of  its  manufacture  may  to  some  degree  find  favor  for  my  story  with 
seafarers  and  sea-lovers  like  yourself. 

And  at  last  here  is  a  dedication  from  a  great  way  off  :  written  by 
the  loud  shores  of  a  subtropical  island  near  upon  ten  thousand  miles 
from  Boscombe  Chine  and  Manor  :  scenes  which  rise  before  me  as  I 
write,  along  with  the  faces  and  voices  of  my  friends. 

Well,  I  am  for  the  sea  once  more  ;  no  doubt  Sir  Percy  also.  Let 
ns  make  the  signal  B.  R.  D.  I 

R.  L.  S. 
Vaikiki,  May  17,  1889. 


? 


THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 


SUMMARY  OF  EVENTS  DURING  THE  MASTER'S 
WANDERINGS. 

The  full  truth  of  this  odd  matter  is  what  the  world  has 
long  been  looking  for  and   public  curiosity  is  sure  to  wel- 
come.    It  so  befell  that  I  was  intimately  mingled  with  the 
last  years  and  history  of  the  house  ;  and  there  does  not  / 
live  one  roan  so  able  as  myself  to  make  these  matters  plain,/ 
or  so  desirous  to  narrate  them  faithfully.     I  knew  the  Mas- 
ter ;  on  many  secret  steps  of  his  career,  I  have  an  authentic 
memoir  in  my  hand  ;  I  sailed  with  him  on  his  last  voyage 
almost  alone  ;  I  made  one  upon  that  winter's  journey  of 
which  so  many  tales  have  gone  abroad  ;  and  I  was  there  at    / 
the  man's  death.     As  for  my  late  Lord  Durrisdeer,  I  served  J 
him  and  loved  him  near  twenty  years  ;  and  thought  more 
of  him  the  more  I  knew  of  him.     Altogether,  I  think  it  not 
fit  that  so  much  evidence  should  perish  ;  the  truth  is  a  debt 
I  owe  my  lord's  memory  ;  and  I  think  my  old  years  will  flow 
more  smoothly,  and  my  white  hair  lie  quieter  on  the  pillow, 
when  the  debt  is  paid. 

The  Duries  of  Durrisdeer  and  Balkntrae  were  a  strong 
family  in  the  southwest  from  the  days  of  David  First.  A 
rhyme  still  current  in  the  countryside — 

Kittle  folk  are  the  Durrisdeers, 
They  ride  wi'  ower  mony  spears — 

bears  the  mark  of   its  antiquity  ;  and  the  name  appears 

7 


*  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

in  ano^b^er,  which  copijmpn  report  attributes  to  Thomas  of 
ErciMotlne  .h irns;e If ^-i; /cannot  say  how  truly,  and  which 
s^me,  b^y,;  j.^plied— ^I  dare. not  say  with  how  much  justice— 
toHiie  tv'chts'or  t;hi<s;  riatration  : 

Twa  Duries  in  Durrisdeer, 

Ane  to  tie  and  ane  to  ride. 
An  ill  day  for  the  groom 

And  a  waur  day  for  the  bride. 

Authentic  history  besides  is  filled  with  their  exploits,  which 
(to  our  modern  eyes)  seem  not  very  commendable  ;  and 
the  family  suffered  its  full  share  of  those  ups  and  downs  to 
which  the  great  houses  of  Scotland  have  been  ever  liable. 
But  all  these  I  pass  over,  to  come  to  that   memorable  year 

J  1745,  when  the  foundations  of  this  tragedy  were  laid. 

At  that  time  there  dwelt  a  family  of  four  persons  in  the 

V  house  of  Durrisdeej:,  near  St.  Bride's,  on  the  Solway  shore ; 
a  chief  hold  of  their  race  since  the  Reformation.  My  old 
Jord,  eighth  of  the  name,  was  not  old  in  years,  but  he  suif- 
fered  prematurely  from  the  disabilities  of  age  ;  his  place 
was  at  the  chimney  side  ;  there  he  sat  reading,  in  a  lined 
gown,  with  few  words  for  any  man,  and  wry  words  for  none  : 
the  model  of  an  old  retired  housekeeper  ;  and  yet  his  mind 
very  well  nourished  with  study,  and  reputed  in  the  country 
to  be  more  cunning  than  he  seemed.  The  Master  of  Bal- 
lantrae,  James  in  baptism,  took  from  his  father  the  love  of 
serious  reading  ;  some  of  his  tact  perhaps  as  well,  but  that 
which  was  only  policy  in  the  father  became  black  dissimu- 
lation in  the  son.  The  face  of  his  behavior  was  merely 
popular  and  wild  :  he  sat  late  at  wine,  later  at  the  cards  ; 
had  the  name  in  the  country  of  '*  an  unco  man  for  the 
lasses  ";  and  was  ever  in  the  front  of  broils.  But  for  all 
he  was  the  first  to  go  in,  yet  it  was  observed  he  was  inv.'*''i- 
ably  the  best  to  come  off  ;  and  his  partners  in  mischief  were 
usually  alone  to  pay  the  piper.  This  luck  or  dexterity  got 
him  several  ill-wishers,  but  with  the  rest  of  the  country, 


SUMMAR  y  OF  E  VENTS.  9 

enhanced  his  reputation  ;  so  that  great  things  were  looked 
for  in  his  future,  when  he  should  have  gained  more  gravity. 
One  very  black  mark  he  had  to  his  name  ;  but  the  matter 
was  hushed  up  at  the,  time,  and  so  defaced  by  legends  be- 
fore I  came  into  those  parts,  that  I  scruple  to  set  it  down. 
If  it  was  true,  it  was  a  horrid  fact  in  one  so  young  ;  and  if 
false,  it  was  a  horrid  calumny.  I  think  it  notable  that  he 
had  always  vaunted  himse/f  quite  implacable,  and  was  taken 
at  his  word  ;  so  that  he  had  the  addition  among  his  neigh- 
bors of  "  an  ill  man  to  cross."  Here  was  altogether  a 
young  nobleman  (not  yet  twenty-four  in  the  year  '45)  who 
had  made  a  figure  in  the  country  beyond  his  time  of  life. 
The  less  marvel  if  there  were  little  heard  of  the  second 
son,  Mr\JH[enryj[myJate  Lord  Durrisdeer),  who  was  neither 
very  bad  nor  yet  very  able,  but  an  honest,  solid  sort  of  lad 
like  many  of  his  neighbors.  Little  heard,  I  say  ;  but  in- 
deed  It  was  a  case  of  little  spoken.  He  was  known  among 
the  salmon  fishers  in  the  firth,  for  that  was  a  sport  that  he 
assiduously  followed  ;  he  was  an  excellent  good  horse-doc- 
tor besides  ;  and  took  a  chief  hand,  almost  from  a  boy,  in 
the  management  of  the  estates.  How  hard  a  part  that  was, 
in  the  situation  of  that  family,  none  knows  better  than  my- 
self ;  nor  yet  with  how  little  color  of  justice  a  man  may 
there  acquire  the  reputation  of  a  tyrant  and  a  miser.  The 
fourth  person  in  the  house  was  Miss  Alison  Graeme,  a  near 
kinswoman,  an  orpfian^and  Fhe  heir  to  a  considerable  for- 
tune which  her  father  had  acquired  in  trade.  This  money 
was  loudly  called  for  by  my  lord's  necessities  ;  indeed  the 
land  was  deeply  mortgaged  ;  and  Miss  Alison  was  designed 
accordingly  to  be  the  Master's  wife,  gladly  enough  on  her 
side  ;  with  how  much  good  will  on  his,  is  another  matter. 
She  was  a  comely  girl  and  in  those  days  very  spirited  and 
self-willed  ;  for  the  old  lord  having  no  daughter  of  his  own, 
and  my  lady  being  long  dead,  she  had  grown  up  as  best 
she  might. 


16  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

To  these  four,  came  the  news  of  Prince  Charlie's  landing 
and  set  them  presently  by  the  ears.  My  lord,  like  the 
chimney-keeper  that  he  was,  was  all  for  temporizing.  Miss 
Alison  held  the  other  side,  because  it  appeared  romantical ; 
and  the  Master  (though  I  have  heard  they  did  not  agree 
often)  was  for  this  once  of  her  opinion.  The  adventure 
tempted  him,  as  I  conceive  ;  he  was  tempted  by  the  oppor- 
tunity to  raise  the  fortunes  of  the  house,  and  not  less  by 
the  hope  of  paying  off  his  private  liabilities,  which  were 
heavy  beyond  all  opinion.  As  for  Mr.  Henry,  it  appears 
he  said  little  enough  at  first ;  his  part  came  later  on.  It 
took  the  three  a  whole  day's  disputation,  before  they  agreed 
I  to  steer  a  middle  course,  one  son  going  forth  to  strike  a 
blow  for  King  James,  my  lord  and  the  other  staying  at 
^  home  to  keep  in  favor  with  King  George.  Doubtless  this 
was  my  lord's  decision  ;  and  as  is  well  known,  it  was  the 
part  played  by  many  considerable  families.  But  the  one 
dispute  settled,  another  opened.  For  my  lord.  Miss  Alison, 
and  Mr.  Henry  all  held  the  one  view  :  that  it  v>^as  the 
cadet's  part  to  go  out ;  and  the  Master,  what  with  restless- 
ness and  vanity,  would  at  no  rate  consent  to  stay  at  home. 
My  lord  pleaded.  Miss  Alison  wept,  Mr.  Henry  was  very 
plain  spoken  :    all  was  of  no  avail. 

"  It  is  the  direct  heir  of  Durrisdeer  that  should  ride  by 
his  King's  bridle,"  says  the  Master. 

"If  we  were  playing  a  manly  part,"  says  Mr.  Henry, 
"  there  might  be  sense  in  such  talk.  But  what  are  we  doing  ? 
Cheating  at  cards  !  " 

"We  are  saving  the  house  of  Durrisdeer,  Henry,"  his 
father  said. 

"  And  .see,  James,"  said  Mr.  Henry,  "  if  I  go,  and  the 
Prince  has  the  upper  hand,  it  will  be  easy  to  make  your 
peace  with  King  James.  But  if  you  go,  and  the  expedition 
fails,  we  divide  the  right  and  the  title.  And  what  shall  I 
\t  then  ?  " 


SUMMARY  OF  EVENTS.  U 

"  You  will  be  Lord  Durrisdeer,"  said  the  master.  "  I  put 
all  I  have  upon  the  table."  ^ 

"  I  play  at  no  such  game,"  cries  Mr.  Henry.  "  I  shall  be 
left  in  such  a  situation  as  no  man  of  sense  and  honor  could 
endure.  I  shall  be  neither  fish  nor  flesh  !  "  he  cried.  And 
a  little  after,  he  had  another  expression,  plainer  perhaps 
than  he  intended.  "  It  is  your  duty  to  be  here  with  my 
father,"  said  he.  **You  know  well  enough  you  are  the 
favorite." 

"Ay?"  said  the  Master.  "And  there  spoke  Envy! 
Would  you  trip  up  my  heels — Jacob? "  said  he,  and  dwelled 
upon  the  name  maliciously. 

Mr.  Henry  went  and  walked  at  the  low  end  of  the  hall 
without  reply ;  for  he  had  an  excellent  gift  of  silence. 
Presently  he  came  back. 

"  I  am  the  cadet  and  I  should  go,"  said  he.  "  And  my 
lord  here  is  the  master,  and  he  says  I  shall  go.  What  say 
ye  to  that,  my  brother?" 

"I  say  this,  Harry,"  returned  the  Master,  "  that  when 
very  obstinate  folk  are  met,  there  are  only  two  ways  out : 
Blows — and  I  think  none  of  us  would  care  to  go  so  far  ;  or 
the  arbitrament  of  chance — and  here  is  a  guinea  piece.  ^ 
Will  you  stand  by  the  toss  of  the  coin  ? " 

"  I  will  stand  and  fall  by  it,"  said  Mr.  Henry.  "  Heads, 
I  go  ;  shield,  I  stay." 

The  coin  was  spun  and  it  fell  shield.  "  So  there  is  a 
lesson  for  Jacob,"  says  the  Master. 

"  We  shall  live  to  repent  of  this,"  says  Mr.  Henry,  and 
flung  out  of  the  hall. 

As  for  Miss  Alison,  she  caught  up  that  piece  of  gold 
which  had  just  sent  her  lover  to  the  wars,  and  flung 
it  clean  through  the  family  shield  in  the  great  painted 
window. 

"  If  you  loved  me  as  well  as  I  love  you,  you  would  have 
stayed,"  cried  she. 


4 


la  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAR. 

"  *  I  could  not  love  you,  dear,  so  well,  loved  I  HOt  hoaor 
more,*  "  sang  the  Master. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  cried,  **  you  have  no  heart — I  hope  you  may 
be  killed  !  "  and  she  ran  from  the  room,  and  in  tears  to  her 
own  chamber. 

It  seems  the  Master  turned  to  my  lord  with  his  most 
comical  manner,  and  says  he,  "  This  looks  like  a  devil  of  a 
wife." 

*'  I  think  you  are  a  devil  of  a  son  to  me,"  cried  his  father, 
"  you  that  has  always  been  the  favorite,  to  my  shame  be  it 
spoken.  Never  a  good  hour  have  I  gotten  of  you,  since 
you  were  born  ;  no,  never  one  good  hour,"  and  repeated  it 
again  the  third  time.  Whether  it  was  the  Master's  levity, 
or  his  insubordination,  or  Mr.  Henry's  word  about  the 
favorite  son,  that  had  so  much  disturbed  my  lord,  I  do  not 
know  ;  but  I  incline  to  think  it  was  the  last,  for  I  have  it  by 
all  accounts  that  Mr.  Henry  was  more  made  up  to  from  that 
hour. 

Altogether  it  was  in  pretty  ill  blood  with  his  family  that 
the  Master  rode  to  the  north  ;  which  was  the  more  sorrow- 
ful for  others  to  remember  when  it  seemed  too  late.  By 
fear  and  favor,  he  had  scraped  together  near  upon  a  dozen 
men,  principally  tenants'  sons  ;  they  were  all  pretty  full 
when  they  set  forth,  and  rode  up  the  hill  by  the  old  abbey, 
roaring  and  singing,  the  white  cockade  in  every  hat.  It 
was  a  desperate  venture  for  so  small  a  company  to  cross 
the  most  of  Scotland  unsupported  ;  and  (what  made  folk 
think  so  the  more)  even  as  that  poor  dozen  was  clattering 
up  the  hill,  a  great  ship  of  the  king's  navy,  that  could  have 
brought  them  under  with  a  single  boat,  lay  with  her  broad 
ensign  streaming  in  the  bay.  The  next  afternoon,  having 
given  the  Master  a  fair  start,  it  was  Mr.  Henry's  turn  ;  and 
he  rode  off,  all  by  himself,  to  offer  his  sword  and  carry  letters 
from  his  father  to  King  George's  government.  Miss  Alison 
was  shut  in  her  room  and  did  little  but  weep,  till  both  were 


SUMMAR  Y  OF  S  VEN'TS.  13 

gone  ;  only  she  stitched  the  cockade  upon  the  Master's  hat, 
and  (as  John  Paul  told  me)  it  was  wetted  with  tears  when 
he  carried  it  down  to  him. 

In  all  that  followed,  Mr.  Henry  and  my  old  lord  were  true 
to  their  bargain.  That  ever  they  accomplished  anything  is 
more  than  I  could  learn  ;  and  that  they  were  anyway  strong 
on  the  King's  side,  more  than  I  believe.  But  they  kept  the 
letter  of  loyalty,  corresponded  with  my  Lord  President,  sat 
still  at  home,  and  had  little  or  no  commerce  with  the  Mas- 
ter while  that  business  lasted.  Nor  was  he,  on  his  side, 
more  communicative.  Miss  Alison,  indeed,  was  always 
sending  him  expresses,  but  I  do  not  know  if  she  had  many 
answers.  Macconochie  rode  for  her  once,  and  found  the 
Highlanders  before  Carlisle,  and  the  Master  riding  by  the 
Prince's  side  in  high  favor  ;  he  took  the  letter  (so  Maccono- 
chie tells),  opened  it,  glanced  it  through  with  a  mouth  like 
a  man  whistling,  and  stuck  it  in  his  belt,  whence,  on  his 
horse  passageing,  it  fell  unregarded  to  the  ground.  It  was 
Macconochie  who  picked  it  up  ;  ^nd  he  still  kept  it,  and 
indeed  I  have  seen  it  in  his  hands.  News  came  to  Durris- 
deer  of  course,  by  the  common  report,  as  it  goes  traveling 
through  a  country,  a  thing  always  wonderful  to  me.  By 
that  means  the  family  learned  more  of  the  Master's  favor\, 
with  the  Prince,  and  the  ground  it  was  said  to  stand  on  : 
for  by  a  strange  condescension  in  a  man  so  proud — only 
that  he  was  a  man  still  more  ambitious — he  was  said  to  have 
crept  into  notability  by  truckling  to  the  Irish.  Sir  Thomas 
Sullivan,  Colonel  Burke,  and  the  rest  were  his  daily  com- 
rades, by  which  course  he  withdrew  himself  from  his  own 
country  folk.  All  the  small  intrigues,  he  had  a  hand  in 
fomenting ;  thwarted  my  Lord  George  upon  a  thousand 
points  ;  was  always  for  the  advice  that  seemed  palatable  to 
the  Prince,  no  matter  if  it  was  good  or  bad :  and  seems 
upon  the  whole  (lik«  the  gambler  he  was  all  through  life) 
to  have  kad  letft  reg^ird  to  the  chances  of  the  oam|»aigh  than. 


14  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

to  the  greatness  of  favor  he  might  aspire  to,  if  (by  any  luck) 
it  should  succeed.  For  the  rest,  he  did  very  well  in  the 
field  ;  no  one  questioned  that ;  for  he  was  no  coward. 

The  next  was  the  news  of  Culloden,  which  was  brought 
^o  Durrisdeer  by  one  of  the  tenant's  sons,  the  only  survivor, 
4ie  declared,  of  all  those  that  had  gone  singing  up  the  hill. 
By  an  unfortunate  chance,  John  Paul  and  Macconochie  had 
that  very  morning  found  the  guinea  piece  (which  was  the 
root  of  all  the  evil)  sticking  in  a  holly  bush  ;  they  had  been 
"  up  the  gait,"  as  the  servants  say  at  Durrisdeer,  to  the 
change  house  ;  and  if  they  had  little  left  of  the  guinea,  they 
had  less  of  their  wits.  What  must  John  Paul  do,  but  burst 
into  the  hall  where  the  family  sat  at  dinner,  and  cry  the 
news  to  them  that  **  Tam  Macmorland  was  but  new  lichtit 
at  the  door,  and — wirra,  wirra — there  were  nane  to  come 
behind  him"  ? 

They  took  the  word  in  silence  like  folk  condemned  ;  only 
Mr.  Henry  carrying  his  palm  to  his  face,  and  Miss  Alison 
laying  her  head  outright  upon  her  hands.  As  for  my  lord, 
he  was  like  ashes. 

"  I  have  still  one  son,"  says  he.  "  And  Henry,  I  will  do 
you  this  justice,  it  is  the  kinder  that  is  left." 

It  was  a  strange  thing  to  say  in  such  a  moment  :  but  my 
lord  had  never  forgotten  Mr.  Henry's  speech,  and  he  had 
years  of  injustice  on  his  conscience.  Still  it  was  a  strange 
thing ;  and  more  than  Miss  Alison  could  let  pass.  She 
broke  out  and  blamed  my  lord  for  his  unnatural  words,  and 
Mr.  Henry  because  he  was  sitting  there  in  safety  when  his 
\J  brother  lay  dead,  and  herself  because  she  had  given  her 
sweetheart  ill  words  at  his  departure  ;  calling  him  the  flower 
of  the  flock,  wringing  her  hands,  protesting  her  love,  and 
crying  on  him  by  his  name ;  so  that  the  servants  stood 
astonished. 

Mr.  Henry  got  to  his  feet  and  stood  holding  his  chair ; 
it  was  he  that  was  like  ash^s  now. 


SUMMAR  Y  OF  E  VENTS.  IS 

"  Oh,"  he  burst  out  suddenly,  "  I  know  you  loved  him  !  " 

"  The  world  knows  that,  glory  be  to  God  !  "  cries  she  ; 
and  then  to  Mr.  Henry  :  "  There  is  none  but  me  to  know 
one  thing — that  you  were  a  traitor  to  him  in  your  heart." 

"  God  knows,"  groans  he,  "  it  was  lost  love  on  both 
sides." 

Time  went  by  in  the  house  after  that,  without  much 
change  ;  only  they  were  now  three  instead  of  four,  which 
was  a  perpetual  reminder  of  their  loss.  Miss  Alison's 
money,  you  are  to  bear  in  mind,  was  highly  needful  for  the 
estates  ;  and  the  one  brother  being  dead,  my  old  lord  soon 
set  his  heart  upon  her  marrying  the  other.  Day  in,  day  ^ 
out,  he  would  work  upon  her,  sitting  by  the  chimney  side 
with  his  finger  in  his  Latin -book,  and  his  eyes  set  upon  her 
face  with  a  kind  of  pleasant  intentness  that  became  the  old 
gentleman  very  well.  If  she  wept,  he  would  condole  with 
her,  like  an  ancient  man  that  has  seen  worse  times  and 
begins  to  think  lightly  even  of  sorrow  ;  if  she  raged,  he 
would  fall  to  reading  again  in  his  Latin  book,  but  always 
with  some  civil  excuse  ;  if  she  offered  (as  she  often  did)  to 
let  them  have  her  money  in  a  gift,  he  would  show  her  how 
little  it  consisted  with  his  honor,  and  remind  her,  even  if  he 
should  consent,  that  Mr.  Henry  would  certainly  refuse. 
Non  vi  sed  scBpe  cadendo  was  a  favorite  word  of  his  ;  and  no 
doubt  this  quiet  persecution  wore  away  much  of  her  resolve  ; 
no  doubt,  besides,  he  had  a  great  influence  on  the  girl, 
having  stood  in  the  place  of  both  her  parents  ;  and  for  that 
matter,  she  was  herself  filled  with  the  spirit  of  the  Duries, 
and  would  have  gone  a  great  way  for  the  glory  of  Durris- 
deer ;  but  not  so  far,  I  think,  as  to  marry  my  poor  patron, 
had  it  not  been  (strangely  enough)  for  the  circumstance  of 
his  extreme  unpopularity. 

This  was  the  work  of  Tarn  Macmorland.     There  was  not 
much  harm  in  Tam  ;  but  he  had  that  grievous  weakness,  a  v 
lang  tongue  ;  and  as  the  only  man  in  that  country  who  lia4.  ■ 


Itf  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAB. 

been  out  (or  rather  who  had  come  in  again)  he  was  sure  of 
listeners.  Those  that  have  the  underhand  in  any  fighting, 
I  have  observed,  are  ever  anxious  to  persuade  themselves 
they  were  betrayed.  By  Tarn's  account  of  it,  the  rebels  had 
been  betrayed  at  every  turn  and  by  every  officer  they  had  ; 
they  had  been  betrayed  at  Derby,  and  betrayed  at  Falkirk ; 
the  night  march  was  a  step  of  treachery  of  my  Lord 
George's ;  and  CuUoden  was  lost  by  the  treachery  of  the 
I  Macdonalds.  This  habit  of  imputing  treason  grew  upon 
the  fool,  till  at  last  he  must  have  in  Mr.  Henry  also.  Mr. 
Henry  (by  his  account)  had  betrayed  the  lads  of  Durris- 
deer  ;  he  had  promised  to  follow  with  more  men,  and  instead 
of  that  he  had  ridden  to  King  George.  "  Ay,  and  the  next 
day  !  "  Tam  would  cry.  *'  The  puir,  bonnie  Master  and 
the  puir,  kind  lads  that  rade  wi'  him,  were  hardly  ower  the 
scaur,  or  he  was  aff — the  Judis  !  Ay,  weel — he  has  his  way 
o't :  he's  to  be  my  lord,  nae  less,  and  there's  mony  a  cauld 
corp  amang  the  Hieland  heather  !  "  And  at  this,  if  Tam 
had  been  drinking,  he  would  begin  to  weep. 

Let  any  one  speak  long  enough,  he  will  get  believers. 

This  view  of  Mr.  Henry's  behavior  crept  about  the 
country  by  little  and  little  ;  it  was  talked  upon  by  folk  that 
knew  the  contrary  but  were  short  of  topics  ;  and  it  was 
heard  and  believed  and  given  out  for  gospel  by  the  ignorant 
and  the  ill-willing.  Mr.  Henry  began  to  be  shunned  ;  yet 
awhile,  and  the  cr/imons  began  to  murmur  as  he  went  by, 
and  the  women  (who  are  always  the  most  bold  because  they 
arc  the  most  safe)  to  cry  out  their  reproaches  to  his  face. 
The  Master  was  cried  up  for  a  saint.  It  was  remembered 
how  he  had  never  any  hand  in  pressing  the  tenants ;  as, 
indeed,  no  more  he  had,  except  to  spend  the  money.  He 
was  a  little  wild  perhaps,  the  folk  said  ;  but  how  much  bet- 
ter was  a  natural,  wild  lad  that  would  soon  have  settled 
down,  than  a  skinflint  and  a  sneckdraw,  sitting,  with  his 
nose  in  an  account  book,  to  persecute  poor  tenants.     One 


SUMMARY  OF  EVENTS,  17 

trollop,  who  had  had  a  child  to  the  Master  and  by  all  accounts 
been  very  badly  used,  yet  made  herself  a  kind  of  champion 
of  his  memory.     She  flung  a  stone  one  day  at  Mr.  Henry. 

"  Whaur's  the  bonnie  lad  that  trustit  ye  ?  "  she  cried. 

Mr.  Henry  reined  in  his  horse  and  looked  upon  her,  the 
blood  flowing  from  his  lip.  "  Ay,  Jess  }  "  says  he.  "  You 
too?  And  yet  ye  should  ken  me  better."  For  it  was  he 
who  had  helped  her  with  money. 

The  woman  had  another  stone  ready,  which  she  made  as 
if  she  would  cast ;  and  he,  to  ward  himself,  threw  up  the 
hand  that  held  his  riding  rod. 

"  What,  would  ye  beat  a  lassie,  ye  ugly ?  "  cries  she, 

and  ran  away  screaming  as  though  he  had  struck  her. 

Next  day,  word  went  about  the  country  like  wildfire  that  / 
Mr.  Henry  had  beaten  Jessie  Broun  within  an  inch  of  her 
life.  I  give  it  as  one  instance  of  how  this  snowball  grew 
and  one  calumny  brought  another  ;  until  my  poor  patron 
was  so  perished  in  reputation  that  he  began  to  keep  the 
house  like  my  lord.  All  this  while,  you  may  be  very  sure 
he  uttered  no  complaints  at  home  ;  the  very  ground  of  the 
scandal  was  too  sore  a  matter  to  be  handled  ;  and  Mr. 
Henry  was  very  proud  and  strangely  obstinate  in  silence. 
My  old  lord  must  have  heard  of  it,  by  John  Paul,  if  by  no 
one  else  ;  and  he  must  at  least  have  remarked  the  altered 
habits  of  his  son.  Yet  even  he,  it  is  probable,  knew  not 
how  high  the  feeling  ran  ;  and  as  for  Miss  Alison,  she  was 
ever  the  last  person  to  hear  news,  and  the  least  interested 
when  she  heard  them. 

In  the  heig'nt  of  the  ill-feeling  (for  it  died  away  as  it 
came,  no  man  ould  say  why)  there  was  an  election  forward 
in  the  town  of  St.  Bride's,  which  is  the  next  to  Durrisdeer, 
standing  on  th  Water  of  Swift ;  some  grievance  was  fer- 
toenting,  I  fory  et  what,  if  ever  I  heard;  and  it  was  currently 
said  there  wr  ild  be  broken  heads  ere  night,  and  that  the 
sheriff  ha^  ' ^nt  as  far  as  Dumfries  for  soldiers.     My  lord 


1 8  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

moved  that  Mr.  Henry  should  be  present ;  assuring  him  it 
was  necessary  to  appear,  for  the  credit  of  the  house.  "  It 
will  soon  be  reported,"  said  he,  "  that  we  do  not  take  the 
lead  in  our  own  country." 

"  It  is  a  strange  lead  that  I  can  take,"  said  Mr.  Henry  ; 
and  when  they  had  pushed  him  further,  **  I  tell  you  the 
plain  truth,"  he  said,  "  I  dare  not  show  my  face." 

"You  are  the  first  of  the  house  that  ever  said  so,"  cries 
Miss  Alison. 

"  We  will  go  all  three,"  said  my  lord  ;  and  sure  enough 
he  got  into  his  boots  (the  first  time  in  four  years— a  sore 
business  John  Paul  had  to  get  them  on)  and  Miss  Alison 
into  her  riding-coat,  and  all  three  rode  together  to  St. 
Bride's. 

The  streets  were  full  of  the  riff-raff  of  all  the  country, 
side,  who  had  no  sooner  clapped  eyes  on  Mr.  Henry  than 
the  hissing  began,  and  the  hooting,  and  the  cries  of 
"  Judas  !"  and  "Where  was  the  Master?"  and  "Where 
were  the  poor  lads  that  rode  with  him?"  Even  a  stone 
was  cast ;  but  the  more  part  cried  shame  at  that,  for  my  old 
lord's  sake  and  Miss  Alison's.  It  took  not  ten  minutes  to 
persuade  my  lord,  that  Mr.  Henry  had  been  right.  He 
said  never  a  word,  but  turned  his  horse  about,  and  home 
again,  with  his  chin  upon  his  bosom.  Never  a  word  said 
Miss  Alison  ;  no  doubt  she  thought  the  more  ;  no  doubt  her 
pride  was  stung,  for  she  was  a  bone-bred  Durie  ;  and  no 
doubt  her  heart  was  touched  to  see  her  cousin  so  unjustly 
used.  That  night  she  was  never  in  bed  ;  I  have  often 
blamed  my  lady — when  I  call  to  mind  that  night,  I  readily 
forgive  her  all ;  and  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  she  came 
to  the  old  lord  in  his  usual  seat. 

"  If  Henry  still  wants  me,"  said  she,  **  he  can  have  me 
now."  To  himself  she  had  a  different  speech  :  "  I  bring 
\  you  no  love,  Henry  ;  but  God  knows,  all  the  pity  in  the 
world." 


SUMMAR  y  OF  E  VENTS.  tf 

June  the  first,  1748,  was  the  day  of  their  marriage.    It 
was  December  of  the  same  year  that  first  saw  me  alighting 
at  the  doors  of  the  great  house  ;  and  from  there  I  take  u; 
the  history  of  events  as  they  befell  under  my  own  obser- 
vation, like  a  witness  in  a  court. 

I  made  the  last  of  my  journey  in  the  cold  end  of  De- 
cember, in  a  mighty  dry  day  of  frost ;  and  who  should  be 
my  guide  but  Patey  Macmorland,  brother  of  Tom  ?  For  a 
two-headed,  bare-legged  brat  of  ten,  he  had  more  ill  tales 
upon  his  tongue  than  ever  I  heard  the  match  of  ;  having 
drunken  betimes  in  his  brother's  cup.  I  was  still  not  so 
old  myself  ;  pride  had  not  yet  the  upperhand  of  curiosity  ; 
and  indeed  it  would,  have  taken  any  man,  that  cold  morning, 
to  hear  all  the  old  clashes  of  the  country  and  to  be  shown 
all  the  places  by  the  way  where  strange  things  had  fallen  out. 
I  had  tales  of  Claverhouse  as  we  came  through  the  bogs, 
and  tales  of  the  devil  as  we  came  over  the  top  of  the  scaur. 
As  we  came  in  by  the  abbey  I  heard  somewhat  of  the  old 
monks,  and  more  of  the  freetraders,  who  use  its  ruins  for  a 
magazine,  landing  for  that  cause  within  a  cannon-shot  of 
Durrisdeer ;  and  along  all  the  road,  the  Duries  and  poor 
Mr.  Henry  were  in  the  first  rank  of  slander.  My  mind 
was  thus  highly  prejudiced  against  the  family  I  was  about 
to  serve  ;  so  that  I  was  half-surprised  when  I  beheld  Dur- 
risdeer itself,  lying  in  a  pretty,  sheltered  bay,  under  the 
Abbey  Hill  ;  the  house  most  commodiously  built  in  the 
French  fashion  or  perhaps  Italianate,  for  I  have  no  skill  in 
these  arts  ;  and  the  place  the  most  beautified  with  gardens, 
lawns,  shrubberies,  and  trees  I  had  ever  seen.  The  money 
sunk  here  unproductively  would  have  quite  restored  the 
family  ;  but  as  it  was,  it  cost  a  revenue  to  keep  it  up. 

Mr.  Henry  came  himself  to  the  door  to  welcome  me  :  a 
iall,  dark  young  gentleman  (the  Duries  are  all  black  men) 
of  a  plain  and  not  cheerful  face,  very  strong  in  body  bvit 


90  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

not  so  strong  in  health  :  taking  mc  by  the  hand  without 
any  pride,  and  putting  mc  at  home  with  plain,  kind 
speeches.  He  led  me  into  the  hall,  booted  as  I  was,  to  pre- 
sent me  to  my  lord.  It  was  still  daylight ;  and  the  first 
thing  I  observed  was  a  lozenge  of  clear  glass  in  the  midst 
of  the  shield  in  the  painted  window,  which  I  remember 
thinking  a  blemish  on  a  room  otherwise  so  handsome,  with 
its  family  portraits,  and  the  pargetted  ceiling  with  pendants, 
and  the  carved  chimney,  in  one  corner  of  which  my  old 
lord  sat  reading  in  his  Livy.  He  was  like  Mr.  Henry,  with 
much  the  same  plain  countenance,  only  more  subtle  and 
pleasant,  and  his  talk  a  thousand  times  more  entertain- 
ing. He  had  many  questions  to  ask  me,  I  remember,  of 
Edinburgh  College,  where  I  had  just  received  my  master- 
ship of  arts,  and  of  the  various  professors,  with  whom  and 
their  proficiency  he  seemed  well  acquainted  ;  and  thus, 
talking  of  things  that  I  knew,  I  soon  got  liberty  of  speech 
in  my  new  home. 

In  the  midst  of  this,  came  Mrs.  Henry  into  the  room  ; 
she  was  very  far  gone.  Miss  Katharine  being  due  in  about 
six  weeks,  which  made  me  think  less  of  her  beauty  at  the 
first  sight ;  and  she  used  me  with  more  of  condescension 
than  the  rest  ;  so  that,  upon  all  accounts,  I  kept  her  in  the 
third  place  of  my  esteem. 

It  did  not  take  long  before  all  Pate  Macmorland's  tales 
were  blotted  out  of  my  belief,  and  I  was  become,  what  I 
I  have  ever  since  remained,  a  loving  servant  of  the  house  of 
^  Durrisdeer.  Mr.  Henry  had  the  chief  part  of  my  affection. 
It  was  with  him  I  worked  ;  and  I  found  him  an  exacting 
master,  keeping  all  his  kindness  for  those  hours  in  which 
we  were  unemployed,  and  in  the  steward's  office  not  only 
loading  me  with  work  but  viewing  me  with  a  shrewd  super- 
vision. At  length  one  day,  he  looked  up  from  his  paper 
with  a  kind  of  timidness,  and  says  he,  "  Mr.  Mackellar,  I 
think  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  you  do  very  well."    That  was 


SUMMAR  Y  OF  ^  VEMTS.  1 1 

my  first  word  of  commendation  ;  and  from  that  day  hU  / 
jealousy  of  my  performance  was  relaxed  ;  soon  it  was  "  Mr.  \ 
Mackellar  "  here,  and  "  Mr.  Mackellar  "  there,  with  the 
whole  family  ;  and  for  much  of  my  service  at  Durrisdeer,  I 
have  transacted  everything  at  my  own  time  and  to  my  own 
fancy,  and  never  a  farthing  challenged.  Even  while  he 
was  driving  me,  I  had  begun  to  find  my  heart  go  out  to  Mr. 
Henry  ;  no  doubt,  partly  in  pity,  he  was  a  man  so  palpably 
unhappy.  He  would  fall  into  a  deep  muse  over  our  ac- 
counts, staring  at  the  page  or  out  of  the  window  ;  and  at 
those  times  the  look  of  his  face,  and  the  sigh  that  would 
break  from  him,  awoke  in  me  strong  feelings  of  curiosity 
and  commiseration.  One  day,  I  remember,  we  were  late 
upon  some  business  in  the  steward's  room.  This  room  is 
in  the  top  of  the  house  and  has  a  view  upon  the  bay,  and 
over  a  little  wooded  cape,  on  the  long  sands  ;  and  there, 
right  over  against  the  sun  which  was  then  dipping,  we  saw 
the  freetraders  with  a  great  force  of  men  and  horses,  scour- 
ing on  the  beach.  Mr.  Henry  had  been  staring  straight 
west,  so  that  I  marveled  he  was  not  blinded  by  the  sun  ; 
suddenly  he  frowns,  rubs  his  hand  upon  his  brow,  and  turns 
to  me  with  a  smile. 

**  You  would  not  guess  what  I  was  thinking,"  says  he. 
"  I  was  thinking  I  would  be  a  happier  man  if  I  could  ride 
and  run  the  danger  of  my  life,  with  these  lawless  com- 
panions." 

I  told  him  I  had  observed  he  did  not  enjoy  good  spirits ; 
and  that  it  was  a  common  fancy  to  envy  others  and  think 
we  should  be  the  better  of  some  change  ;  quoting  Horace 
to  the  point,  like  a  young  man  fresh  from  college. 

"  Why,  just  so,"  said  he.  "  And  with  that  we  may  get 
back  to  our  accounts." 

It  was  not  long  before  I  began  to  get  wind  of  the  causes 
that  so  much  depressed  him.  Indeed  a  blind  man  must 
have  soon  discovered  there  was  a  shadow  on  that  hous<^ 


i2  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRA^, 

ithe  shadow  of  the  Master  of  Ballantrae.     Dead  or  alive 

^(and  he  was  then  supposed  to  be  dead),  that  man  was  his 
brother's  rival  :  his  rival  abroad,  where  there  was  never  a 

'■*good  word  for  Mr.  Henry  and  nothing  but  regret  and  praise 
for  the  Master ;  and  his  rival  at  home,  not  only  with  his 
father  and  his  wife,  but  with  the  very  servants. 

They  were  two  old  serving-men,  that  were  the  leaders. 

^^1  John  Paul,  a  little,  bald,  solemn,  stomachy  man,  a  great 

professor  of  piety  and  (take  him  for  all  in  all)  a  pretty 

V  faithful  servant,  was  the  chief  of  the  Master's  faction. 
None  durst  go  so  far  as  John.  He  took  a  pleasure  in  dis- 
regarding Mr.  Henry  publicly,  often  with  a  slighting  com- 
parison. My  lord  and  Mrs.  Henry  took  him  up,  to  be  sure, 
but  never  so  resolutely  as  they  should  ;  and  he  had  only 
to  pull  his  weeping  face  and  begin  his  lamentations  for  the 
Master — "  his  laddie,"  as  he  called  him — to  have  the  whole 
condoned.  As  for  Henry,  he  let  these  things  pass  in  si- 
lence, sometimes  with  a  sad  and  sometimes  with  a  black 
look.  There  was  no  rivaling  the  dead,  he  knew  that  ;  and 
how  to  censure  an  old  serving-man  for  a  fault  of  loyalty, 
was  more  than  he  could  see.  His  was  not  the  tongue  to 
do  it. 

j  Macconochie  was  chief  upon  the  other  side  ;  an  old,  ill- 
spoken,  swearing,  ranting,  drunken  dog ;  and  I  have  often 
thought  it  an  odd  circumstance  in  human  nature,  that  these 
two  serving-men  should  each  have  been  the  champion  of 
his  contrary,  and  blackened  their  own  faults  and  made  light 
of  their  own  virtues  when  they  beheld  them  in  a  master. 
Macconochie  had  soon  smelled  out  my  secret  inclination, 
took  me  much  into  his  confidence,  and  would  rant  against 
the  Master  by  the  hour,  so  that  even  my  work  suffered. 
"  They're  a'  daft  here,"  he  would  cry,  "  and  be  <Jamned  to 
them  !  The  Master— the  deil's  in  their  thrarples  that 
should  call  him  sae  !  it's  Mr.  Henry  should  be  master  now  ! 
They  were  nana  sae  fond  o*  the  Master  when  they  had  him, 


BUMMAR  V  OF  EVENTS.  *3 

I'll  can  tell  ye  that.  Sorrow  on  his  name  !  Never  a  guid 
word  did  I  hear  on  his  lips,  nor  naebody  else,  but  just  fleer- 
ing and  flyting  and  profane  cursing — deil  ha'e  him  !  There's 
nane  kent  his  wickedness  :  him  a  gentleman  !  Did  ever 
ye  hear  tell,  Mr.  Mackellar,  o'  Wully  White  the  wabster  ? 
No  ?  Aweel,  Wully  was  an  unco  praying  kind  o'  man  ;  a 
driegh  body,  nane  o'  my  kind,  I  never  could  abide  the 
sight  o'  him  ;  onyway  he  was  a  great  hand  by  his  way  of 
it,  and  he  up  and  rebukit  the  Master  for  some  of  his  on- 
goings. It  was  a  grand  thing  for  the  Master  o'  Ball'ntrae 
to  tak  up  a  feud  wi*  a'  wabster,  wasnae't  ? "  Macconochie 
would  sneer  ;  indeed  he  never  took  the  full  name  upon  his 
lips  but  with  a  sort  of  a  whine  of  hatred.  "  But  he  did  ! 
A  fine  employ  it  was  :  chapping  at  the  man's  door,  and  cry- 
ing *  boo  '  in  his  lum,  and  puttin'  poother  in  his  fire,  and 
pee-oys  *  in  his  window  ;  till  the  man  thocht  it  was  auld 
Hornie  was  come  seekin'  him.  Weel,  to  mak  a  lang  story 
short,  Wully  gaed  gyte.  At  the  hinder  end,  they  couldnae 
get  him  frae  his  knees,  but  he  just  roared  and  prayed  and 
grat  straucht  on,  till  he  got  his  release.  It  was  fair  murder, 
a'body  said  that.  Ask  John  Paul — he  was  brawly  ashamed 
o'  that  game,  him  that's  sic  a  Christian  man  !  Grand  doin's 
for  the  Master  o'  Ball'ntrae  !  "  I  asked  him  what  the  Mas- 
ter had  thought  of  it  himself.  "  How  would  I  ken  ?  "  says 
he  ;  "  He  never  said  naething."  And  on  again  in  his  usual 
manner  of  banning  and  swearing,  with  every  now  and 
again  a  "  Master  of  Ballantrae  "  sneered  through  his  nose. 
It  was  in  one  of  these  confidences,  that  he  showed  me  the 
Carlisle  letter,  the  print  of  the  horse-shoe  still  stamped  in 
the  paper.  Indeed  that  was  our  last  confidence  ;  for  he 
then  expressed  himself  so  ill-naturedly  of  Mrs.  Henry,  that 
I  had  to  reprimand  him  sharply,  and  must  thenceforth  hold 
him  at  a  distance. 

My  old  lord  was  uniformly  kind  to  Mr.  Henry  ;  he  had 
*  A  kind  of  firework  made  with  damp  powder. 


H  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAB, 

even  pretty  ways  of  gratitude,  and  would  sometimes  clap 
him  on  the  shoulder  and  say,  as  if  to  the  world  at  large  : 
"  This  is  a  very  good  son  to  me."  And  grateful  he  was  no 
doubt,  being  a  man  of  sense  and  justice.  But  I  think  that 
was  all,  and  I  am  sure  Mr.  Henry  thought  so.  The  love 
was  all  for  the  dead  son.  Not  that  this  was  often  given 
breath  to  ;  indeed  with  me  but  once.  My  lord  had  asked 
me  one  day  how  I  got  on  with  Mr.  Henry,  and  I  had  told 
him  the  truth. 

"  Ay,"  said  he,  looking  sideways  on  the  burning  fire, 
**  Henry  is  a  good  lad,  a  very  good  lad,"  said  he.  *'  You 
have  heard,  Mr.  Mackellar,  that  I  had  another  son  ?  I  am 
afraid  he  was  not  so  virtuous  a  lad  as  Mr.  Henry  ;  but  dear 
me,  he's  dead,  Mr.  Mackellar  !  and  while  he  lived  we  were 
all  very  proud  of  him,  all  very  proud.  If  he  was  not  all  he 
should  have  been  in  some  ways,  well,  perhaps  we  loved  him 
better  !  "  This  last  he  said  looking  musingly  on  the  fire  ; 
and  then  to  me,  with  a  great  deal  of  briskness,  "  But  I  am 
rejoiced  you  do  so  well  with  Mr.  Henry.  You  will  find  him 
a  good  master."  And  with  that  he  opened  his  book,  which 
was  the  customary  signal  of  dismission.  But  it  would  be 
little  that  he  read  and  less  that  he  understood  ;  Culloden 
field  and  the  Master,  these  would  be  the  burthen  of  his 
thought  ;  and  the  burthen  of  mine  was  an  unnatural  jeal- 
ousy of  the  dead  man  for  Mr.  Henry's  sake,  that  had  even 
then  begun  to  grow  on  me. 

I  am  keeping  Mrs.  Henry  for  the  last,  so  that  this  express- 
ion of  my  sentiment  may  seem  unwarrantably  strong  :  the 
reader  shall  judge  for  himself  when  I  have  done.  But  I 
must  first  tell  of  another  matter,  which  was  the  means  of 
bringing  me  more  intimate.  I  had  not  yet  been  six  months 
at  Durrisdeer  when  it  chanced  that  John  Paul  fell  sick  and 
must  keep  his  bed  ;  drink  was  the  root  of  his  malady,  in  my 
poor  thought  ;  but  he  was  tended  and  indeed  carried  him- 
gelf  like  an  afflicted  saint ;  and  the  very  minister,  who  came 


SUMMAR  Y  OF  K  VENTS.  2^ 

to  visit  him,  professed  himself  edified  when  he  went  away. 
The  third  morning  of  his  sickness,  Mr.  Henry  comes  to  me 
with  something  of  a  hang-dog  look. 

•*  Mackellar,"  says  he,  "  I  wish  I  could  trouble  you  upon 
a  little  service.  There  is  a  pension  we  pay  ;  it  is  John's 
part  to  carry  it ;  and  now  that  he  is  sick,  I  know  not  to  whom 
I  should  look  unless  it  was  yourself.  The  matter  is  very 
delicate  ;  I  could  not  carry  it  with  my  own  hand  for  a  suffi- 
cient reason  ;  I  dare  not  send  Macconochie  who  is  a  talker, 
and  I  am — I  have — I  am  desirous  this  should  not  come  to 
Mrs.  Henry's  ears,"  says  he,  and  flushed  to  his  neck  as  he 
said  it.  I 

To  say  truth,  when  I  found  I  was  to  carry  money  to  one^j 
Jessie  Broun  who  was  no  better  than  she  should  be,  I  sup-^' 
posed  it  was  some  trip  of   his  own  that   Mr.  Henry  was 
dissembling.     I  was  the  more  impressed  when  the  truth 
came  out. 

It  was  up  a  wynd  off  a  side  street  in  St.  Bride's,  that 
Jessie  had  her  lodging.  The  place  was  very  ill  inhabited, 
mostly  by  the  freetrading  sort ;  there  was  a  man  with  a 
broken  head  at  the  entry  ;  half-way  up,  in  a  tavern,  fellows 
were  roaring  and  singing,  though  it  was  not  yet  nine  in  the 
day.  Altogether,  I  had  never  seen  a  worse  neighborhood 
even  in  the  great  city  of  Edinburgh,  and  I  was  in  two  minds 
to  go  back.  Jessie's  room  was  of  a  piece  with  her  sur- 
roundings and  herself  no  better.  She  would  not  give  me 
the  receipt  (which  Mr.  Henry  had  told  me  to  demand,  for 
he  was  very  methodical)  until  she  had  sent  out  for  spirits 
and  I  had  pledged  her  in  a  glass  ;  and  all  the  time  she 
carried  on  in  a  light-headed,  reckless  way,  now  aping  the 
manners  of  a  lady,  now  breaking  into  unseemly  mirth,  now 
making  coquettish  advances  that  oppressed  me  to  the 
ground.     Of  the  money,  she  spoke  more  tragically. 

"  It's  blood  money,"  said  she,  "  I  take  it  for  that ;  blood 
money  for  the  betrayed.     See  what  I'm  brought  down  to  j 


26  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

Ah,  if  the  bonnie  lad  were  back  again,  it  would  be  changed 
days.  Dut  he's  deid — he's  lyin'  deid  amang  the  Hieland 
hills — the  bonnie  lad,  the  bonnie  lad  !  " 

She  had  a  rapt  manner  of  crying  on  the  bonnie  lad,  clasp- 
ing her  hands  and  casting  up  her  eyes,  that  I  think  she 
must  have  learned  of  strolling  players  ;  and  I  thought  her 
sorrow  very  much  of  an  affectation,  and  that  she  dwelled 
upon  the  business  because  her  shame  was  now  all  she  had 
to  be  proud  of,  I  will  not  say  I  did  not  pity  her,  but  it  was 
a  loathing  pity  at  the  best  ;  and  her  last  change  of  manner, 
wiped  it  out.  This  was  when  she  had  had  enough  of  me 
for  an  audience  and  had  set  her  name  at  last  to  the  receipt. 
"  There  !  "  says  she,  and  taking  the  most  unwomanly  oaths 
upon  her  tongue,  bade  me  begone,  and  carry  it  to  the  Judas 
who  had  sent  me.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  heard  the 
name  applied  to  Mr.  Henry  ;  I  was  staggered  besides  at  her 
sudden  vehemence  of  word  and  manner  ;  and  got  forth 
from  the  room,  under  this  shower  of  curses,  like  a  beaten 
dog.  But  even  then  I  was  not  quit  ;  for  the  vixen  threw 
up  her  window  and,  leaning  forth,  continued  to  revile  me 
as  I  went  up  the  wynd  ;  the  freetraders,  coming  to  the 
tavern  door,  joined  in  the  mockery  ;  and  one  had  even  the 
inhumanity  to  set  upon  me  a  very  savage,  small  dog,  which 
bit  me  in  the  ankle.  This  was  a  strong  lesson,  had  I 
required  one,  to  avoid  ill  company  ;  and  I  rode  home  in 
much  pain  from  the  bite  and  considerable  indignation  of 
mind. 

Mr.  Henry  was  in  the  steward's  room,  affecting  employ- 
ment, but  I  could  see  he  was  only  impatient  to  hear  of  my 
errand. 

"  Well "  says  he,  as  soon  as  I  came  in  ;  and  when  I  had 
told  him  something  of  what  passed,  and  that  Jessie  seemed 
an  undeserving  woman  and  far  from  grateful  :  *'  She  is  no 
friend  to  me,"  said  he  ;  "  but  indeed,  Mackellar,  I  have  few 
friends  to  boast  of ;  and  Jessie  has  some  cause  to  be  unjust. 


SUMMAR  Y  OF  E  VENTS.  ^7 

I  need  not  dissemble  what  all  the  country  knows  :  she  was 
not  very  well  used  by  one  of  our  family."  This  was  the 
first  time  I  had  heard  him  refer  to  the  Master  even  distantly  ; 
and  I  think  he  found  his  tongue  rebellious,  even  for  that 
much  ;  but  presently  he  resumed.  "  This  is  why  I  would 
have  nothing  said.  It  would  give  pain  to  Mrs.  Henry  .  .  . 
and  to  my  father,"  he  added,  with  another  flush. 

"  Mr,  Henry,"  said  I,  "  if  you  will  take  a  freedom  at 
my  hands,  I  would  tell  you  to  let  that  woman  be.  What 
service  is  your  money  to  the  like  of  her?  She  has  no 
sobriety  and  no  economy  ;  as  for  gratitude,  you  will  as 
soon  get  milk  from  a  whinstone  ;  and  if  you  will  pretermit 
your  bounty,  it  will  make  no  change  at  all  but  just  to  save 
the  ankles  of  your  messengers." 

Mr.  Henry  smiled.  "  But  I  am  grieved  about  your 
ankle,"  said  he,  the  next  moment,  with  a  proper  gravity. 

"  And  observe,"  I  continued,  "  I  give  you  this  advice 
upon  consideration  ;  and  yet  my  heart  was  touched  for  the 
woman  in  the  beginning." 

"  Why  there  it  is,  you  see  !  "  said  Mr.  Henry.  "  And 
you  are  to  remember  that  I  knew  her  once  a  very  decent 
lass.  Beside  which,  although  I  speak  little  of  my  family,  I 
think  much  of  its  repute." 

And  with  that  he  broke  up  the  talk,  which  was  the  first  we 
had  together  in  such  confidence.     But  the  same  afternoon, 
I  had  the  proof  that  his  father  was  perfectly  acquainted , 
with  the  business,  and  that  it  was  only  from  his  wife  that 
Mr.  Henry  kept  it  secret. 

"  I  fear  you  had  a  painful  errand  to-day,"  says  my  lord 
to  me  :  "  for  which,  as  it  enters  in  no  way  among  your 
duties,  I  wish  to  thank  you,  and  to  remind  you  at  the  same 
time  (in  case  Mr.  Henry  should  have  neglected)  how  verv^ 
desirable  it  is  that  no  word  of  it  should  reach  my  daugh- 
ter. Reflections  on  the  dead,  Mr.  Mackellar,  are  doubly- 
painful.** 


28  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

Anger  glowed  in  my  heart ;  and  I  could  have  told  my 
lord  to  his  face  how  little  he  had  to  do,  bolstering  up  the 
image  of  the  dead  in  Mrs.  Henry's  heart,  and  how  much 
better  he  were  employed,  to  shatter  that  false  idol.  For  by 
this  time,  I  saw  very  well  how  the  land  lay  between  my 
patron  and  his  wife. 

My  pen  is  clear  enough  to  tell  a  plain  tale  ;  but  to  render 
the  effect  of  an  infinity  of  small  things,  not  one  great 
enough  in  itself  to  be  narrated  ;  and  to  translate  the  story 
of  looks,  and  the  message  of  voices  when  they  are  saying 
no  great  matter  ;  and  to  put  in  half  a  page  the  essence  of 
near  eighteen  months  :  this  is  what  I  despair  to  accomplish. 
The  fault,  to  be  very  blunt,  lay  all  in  Mrs.  Henry.  She 
felt  it  a  merit  to  have  consented  to  the  marriage,  and  she 
took  it  like  a  martyrdom  ;  in  which  my  old  lord,  whether 
he  knew  it  or  not,  fomented  her.  She  made  a  merit, 
besides,  of  her  constancy  to  the  dead  ;  though  its  name,  to 
a  nicer  conscience,  should  have  seemed  rather  disloyalty  to 
the  living  ;  and  here  also  my  lord  gave  her  his  countenance. 
I  suppose  he  was  glad  to  talk  of  his  loss,  and  ashamed  to 
dwell  on  it  with  Mr.  Henry.  Certainly,  at  least,  he  made  a 
little  coterie  apart  in  that  family  of  three,  and  it  was  the 
husband  who  was  shut  out.  It  seems  it  was  an  old  custom 
when  the  family  were  alone  in  Durrisdeer,  that  my  lord 
should  take  his  wine  to  the  chimney-side,  and  Miss  Alison 
(instead  of  withdrawing)  should  bring  a  stool  to  his  knee 
and  chatter  to  him  privately  ;  and  after  she  had  become  my 
patron's  wife,  the  same  manner  of  doing  was  continued. 
It  should  have  been  pleasant  to  behold  this  ancient  gentle- 
man so  loving  with  his  daughter  ;  but  I  was  too  much  a 
partisan  of  Mr.  Henry's,  to  be  anything  but  wroth  at  his 
exclusion.  Many's  the  time  I  have  seen  him  make  an  obvi- 
ous resolve,  quit  the  table,  and  go  and  join  himself  to  his 
wife  and  my  Lord  Durrisdeer  ;  and  on  their  part,  they  were 
never  backward    to    make   him   welcome,  turned  to  him 


SUMMAR  Y  OF  E  VSNTS.  29 

smilingly  as  to  an  intruding  child,  and  took  him  into  their 
talk  with  an  effort  so  ill-concealed  that  he  was  soon  back 
again  beside  me  at  the  table  ;  whence  (so  great  is  the  hall 
of  Durrisdeer)  we  could  but  hear  the  murmur  of  voices  at 
the  chimney.  There  he  would  sit  and  watch,  and  I  along 
with  him  ;  and  sometimes  by  my  lord's  head  sorrowfully 
shaken,  or  his  hand  laid  on  Mrs.  Henry's  head,  or  hers  upon 
his  knee  as  if  in  consolation,  or  sometimes  by  an  exchange 
of  tearful  looks,  we  would  draw  our  conclusion  that  the 
talk  had  gone  to  the  old  subject  and  the  shadow  of  the 
dead  was  in  the  hall. 

I  have  hours  when  I  blame  Mr.  Henry  for  taking  all  too 
patiently  ;  yet  we  are  to  remember  he  was  married  in  pity, 
and  accepted  his  wife  upon  that  term.  And  indeed  he  had 
small  encouragement  to  make  a  stand.  Once,  I  remember, 
he  announced  he  had  found  a  man  to  replace  the  pane  of 
the  stained  window  ;  which,  as  it  was  he  that  managed  all 
the  business,  was  a  thing  clearly  within  his  attention.  But 
to  the  Master's  fancies,  that  pane  was  like  a  relic;  and  on  the 
first  word  of  any  change,  the  blood  flew  to  Mrs.  Henry's  face. 

"  1  wonder  at  you  !  "  she  cried. 

"  I  wonder  at  myself,"  says  Mr.  Henry,  with  more  of 
bitterness  than  I  had  ever  heard  him  to  express. 

Thereupon  my  old  lord  stepped  in  with  his  smooth  talk, 
so  that  before  the  meal  was  at  an  end  all  seemed  forgotten  ; 
only  that,  after  dinner,  when  the  pair  had  withdrawn  as 
usual  to  the  chimney-side,  we  could  see  her  weeping  with 
her  head  upon  his  knee.  Mr.  Henry  kept  up  the  talk  with 
me  upon  some  topic  of  the  estates — he  could  speak  of  little 
else  but  business,  and  was  never  the  best  of  company  ;  but 
he  kept  it  up  that  day  with  more  continuity,  his  eye  stray- 
ing ever  and  again  to  the  chimney  and  his  voice  changing 
to  another  key,  but  without  check  of  delivery.  The  pane, 
however,  was  not  replaced  ;  and  I  believe  he  counted  it  a 
great  defeat. 


3©  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

Whether  he  was  stout  enough  or  no,  God  knows  he  was 
kind  enough.  Mrs.  Henry  had  a  manner  of  condescension 
with  him,  such  as  (in  a  wife)  would  have  pricked  my  vanity 
into  an  ulcer  ;  he  took  it  like  a  favor."  She  held  him  at  the 
staff's  end  ;  forgot  and  then  remembered  and  unbent  to 
him,  as  we  do  to  children  ;  burthened  him  with  cold  kind- 
ness ;  reproved  him  with  a  change  of  color  and  a  bitten  lip, 
like  one  shamed  by  his  disgrace  :  ordered  him  with  the  look 
of  the  eye,  when  she  was  off  her  guard  ;  when  she  was  on 
the  watch,  pleaded  with  him  for  the  most  natural  attentions 
as  though  they  were  unheard-of  favors.  And  to  all  this,  he 
replied  with  the  most  unwearied  service  ;  loving,  as  folk  say, 
the  very  ground  she  trod  on,  and  carrying  that  love  in  his 
eyes  as  bright  as  a  lamp.  When  Miss  Katharine  was  to  be 
born,  nothing  would  serve  but  he  must  st»ay  in  the  room  be- 
hind the  head  of  the  bed.  There  he  sat,  as  white  (they  tell 
me)  as  a  sheet  and  the  sweat  dropping  from  his  brow  ;  and 
the  handkerchief  he  had  in  his  hand  was  crushed  into  a  little 
ball  no  bigger  than  a  musket  bullet.  Nor  could  he  bear  the 
sight  of  Miss  Katharine  for  many  a  day  ;  indeed  I  doubt 
if  he  was  ever  what  he  should  have  been  to  my  young 
lady  ;  for  the  which  want  of  natural  feeling,  he  was  loudly 
blamed. 

Such  was  the  state  of  this  family  down  to  the  7th  April, 
1749,  when  there  befell  the  first  of  that  series  of  events 
which  were  to  break  so  many  hearts  and  lose  so  many  lives. 

On  that  day  I  was  sitting  in  my  room  a  little  before  sup- 
per, when  John  Paul  burst  open  the  door  with  no  civility  of 
knocking,  and  told  me  there  was  ope  below  that  wished  t(> 
speak  with  the  steward  ;  sneering  at  the  name  of  my  office. 

I  asked  what  manner  of  man,  and  what  his  name  was ; 
and  this  disclosed  the  cause  of  John's  ill-humor  ;  for  it  ap- 
peared the  visitor  refused  to  name  himself  except  to  me,  a 
?5ore  affront  to  the  major-domo's  consequence. 


SUMMAR  Y  OF  E  VENTS,  H 

"  Well,"  said  I,  smiling  a  little,  "  I  will  sec  what  he 
wants." 

I  found  in  the  entrance  hall  a  big  man  very  plainly  hab- 
ited and  wrapped  in  a  sea  cloak,  like  one  new  landed,  as 
indeed  he  was.  Not  far  off  Macconochie  was  standing,  with 
his  tongue  out  of  his  mouth  and  his  hand  upon  his  chin, 
like  a  dull  fellow  thinking  hard  ;  and  the  stranger,  who  had 
brought  his  cloak  about  his  face,  appeared  uneasy.  He  had 
no  sooner  seen  me  coming  than  he  went  to  meet  me  with 
an  effusive  manner. 

"  My  dear  man,"  said  he,  "  a  thousand  apologies  for  dis- 
turbing you,  but  I'm  in  the  most  awkward  position.  And 
there's  a  son  of  a  ramrod  there  that  I  should  know  the  looks 
of,  and  more  betoken  I  believe  that  he  knows  mine. 
Being  in  this  family,  sir,  and  in  a  place  of  some  responsibil- 
ity (which  was  the  cause  I  took  the  liberty  to  send  for  you), 
you  are  doubtless  of  the  honest  party  ?  " 

"  You  may  be  sure  at  least,"  said  I,  "  that  all  of  that 
party  are  quite  safe  in  Durrisdeer." 

"  My  dear  man,  it  is  my  very  thought,"  says  he.  "  You 
see  I  have  just  been  set  on  shore  here  by  a  very  honest  man, 
whose  name  I  cannot  remember,  and  who  is  to  stand  off 
and  on  for  me  till  morning,  at  some  danger  to  himself  ;  and, 
to  be  clear  with  you,  I  am  a  little  concerned  lest  it  should 
be  at  some  to  me.  I  have  saved  my  life  so  often,  Mr. — I 
forget  your  name,  which  is  a  very  good  one — that,  faith,  I 
would  be  very  loath  to  lose  it  after  all.  And  the  son  of  a 
ramrod,  whom  I  believe  I  saw  before  Carlisle  .  .  .*' 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  I,  "  you  can  trust  Macconochie  until  to- 
morrow." 

"Well,  and  it's  a  delight  to  hear  you  say  so,"  says  the 
stranger.  "  The  truth  is  that  my  name  is  not  a  very  suita- 
ble one  in  this  country  of  Scotland.  With  a  gentleman  like 
you,  my  dear  man,  I  would  have  no  concealments  of  course  ; 
and  by  your  leave,  I'll  just  breathe  it  in  your  ear.     They 


32  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAR, 

'  call  me  Francis  Burke  :  Colonel  Francis  Burke  ;  and  I  am 
here,  at  a  most  damnable  risk  to  myself,  to  see  your  mas- 
ters— if  you'll  excuse  me,  my  good  man,  for  giving  them  the 
name,  for  I'm  sure  it's  a  circumstance  I  would  never  have 
guessed  from  your  appearance.  And  if  you  would  just  be 
so  very  obliging  as  to  take  my  name  to  them,  you  might  say 
that  I  come  bearing  letters  which  I  am  sure  they  will  be 
very  rejoiced  to  have  the  reading  of." 
J  Colonel  Francis  Burke  was  one  of  the  Prince's  Irishmen, 
that  did  his  cause  such  an  infinity  of  hurt  and  were  so  much 
distasted  of  the  Scots  at  the  time  of  the  rebellion  ;  and  it 
came  at  once  into  my  mind,  how  the  Master  of  Ballantrae 
had  astonished  all  men  by  going  with  that  party.  In  the 
same  moment,  a  strong  foreboding  of  the  truth  possessed 
my  soul. 

"  If  you  will  step  in  here,"  said  I,  opening  a  chamber 
door,  "I  will  let  my  lord  know." 

"  And  I'm  sure  it's  very  good  of  you,  Mr.  What-is-your- 
name,"  says  the  Colonel.  * 

Up  to  the  hall  I  went,  slow-footed.  There  they  were  all 
three,  my  old  lord  in  his  place,  Mrs.  Henry  at  work  by  the 
window,  Mr.  Henry  (as  was  much  his  custom)  pacing  the 
low  end.  In  the  midst  was  the  table  laid  for  supper.  I 
told  them  briefly  what  I  had  to  say.  My  old  lord  lay  back 
in  his  seat.  Mrs.  Henry  sprang  up  standing  with  a  me- 
chanical motion,  and  she  and  her  husband  stared  at  each 
other's  eyes  across  the  room  ;  it  was  the  strangest,  challeng- 
ing look  these  two  exchanged,  and  as  they  looked,  the 
color  faded  in  their  faces.  Then  Mr.  Henry  turned  to  me  ; 
not  to  speak,  only  to  sign  with  his  finger ;  but  that  w^3 
enough,  and  I  went  down  again  for  the  Colonel. 

When  we  returned,  these  three  were  in  much  the  san;e 
position  I  had  left  them  in ;  I  believe  no  word  had 
passed. 

"  My  lord  Durrisdeer  no  doubt  ?  **  says  the  Colonel,  bow- 


SUMMAR  Y  OF  EVENTS.  33 

ing,  and  my  lord  bowed  in  answer.     "  And  this,"  continues 
the  Colonel,  "  should  be  the  Master  of  Ballantrae  ?  " 

*'  I  have  never  taken  that  name,"  said  Mr.  Henry  ;  "but 
I  am  Henry  Durie  at  your  service." 

Then  the  Colonel  turns  to  Mrs.  Henry,  bowing  with  his 
hat  upon  his  heart  and  the  most  killing  air^of  gallantry. 
"  There  can  be  no  mistake  about  so  fine  a  figure  of  a  lady,'* 
says  he.  "  I  address  the  seductive  Miss  Alison,  of  whom  I 
have  so  often  heard  ? " 

Once  more  husband  and  wife  exchanged  a  look. 

"I  am  Mrs.  Henry  Durie,"  said  she  ;  "but  before  my 
marriage  my  name  was  Alison  Graeme." 

Then  my  lord  spoke  up.  "  I  am  an  old  man.  Colonel 
Burke,"  said  he,  "  and  a  frail  one.  It  will  be  mercy  on 
your  part  to  be  expeditious.  Do  you  bring  me  news  of— w^ 
he  hesitated  and  then  the  words  broke  from  him  with  a 
singular  change  of  voice — "  my  son  ?  "  -^ 

"  My  dear  lord,  I  will  be  round  with  you  like  a  soldier," 
said  the  Colonel.     "  I  do." 

My  lord  held  out  a  wavering  hand  ;  he  seemed  to  wave 
a  signal,  but  whether  it  was  to  give  him  time  or  to  speak 
on,  was  more  than  we  could  guess.  At  length,  he  got  out 
the  one  word — "  Good  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  very  best  in  creation  !  "  cries  the  Colonel.'- 
"  For  my  good  friend  and  admired  comrade  is  at  this  hour 
in  the  fine  city  of  Paris,  and  as  like  as  not,  if  I  know  any-' 
thing  of  his  habits,  he  will  be  drawing  in  his  chair  to  a  piece 
of  dinner. — Bedad,  I  believe  the  lady's  fainting." 

Mrs.  Henry  was  indeed  the  color  of  death,  and  drooped 
against  the  window  frame.  But  when  Mr.  Henry  made  a 
movement  as  if  to  run  to  her,  she  straightened  with  a  sort 
of  shiver.     "  I  am  well,"  r^e  said,  with  her  white  lips. 

Mr.  Henry  stopped,  and  his  face  had  a  strong  twitch  of 
anger.  The  next  moment,  he  had  turned  to  the  Colonel. 
"  You  must  not  blame  yourself,"  says  he,  "for  this  effect  on 


34  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Mrs.  Durie.     It  is  only  natural ;  we  were  all  brought  up 
like  brother  and  sister." 

Mrs.  Henry  looked  at  her  husband  with  something  like 
relief  or  even  gratitude.  In  my  way  of  thinking,  that 
speech  was  the  first  step  he  made  in  her  good  graces. 

"You  must  try  to  forgive  me,  Mrs.  Durie,  for  indeed 
V  and  I  am  just  an  Irish  savage,"  said  the  Colonel  :  "  and  I 
deserve  to  be  shot  for  not  breaking  the  matter  more  artis- 
tically to  a  lady.  But  here  are  the  Master's  own  letters  ; 
one  for  each  of  the  three  of  you  ;  acd  to  be  sure  (if  I  know 
anything  of  my  friend's  genius)  he  wiU  tell  his  own  story 
with  a  better  grace." 

He  brought  the  three  letters  forth  as  he  spoke,  arranged 
them  by  their  superscriptions,  presented  the  first  to  my  lord 
who  took  it  greedily,  and  advanced  towards  Mrs.  Henry 
holding  out  the  second. 

But  the  lady  waved  it  back.  "  To  my  husband,"  says 
she,  with  a  choked  voice. 

The  Colonel  was  a  quick  man,  but  at  this  he  was  some- 
what nonplussed.  "To  be  sure,"  says  he,  "how  very  dull 
of  me  !  '  To  be  sure."     But  he  still  held  the  letter. 

At  last  Mr.  Henry  reached  forth  his  hand,  and  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done  but  give  it  up.  Mr.  Henry  took  the 
letters  (both  hers  and  his  own)  and  looked  upon  their  out- 
side, with  his  brows  knit  hard  as  if  he  were  thinking.  He 
had  surprised  me  all  through  by  his  excellent  behavior ; 
but  he  was  to  excel  himself  now. 

"  Let  me  give  you  a  hand  to  your  room,"  said  he,  to  his 
wife.  "  This  has  come  something  of  the  suddenest  ;  and 
at  any  rate,  you  will  wish  to  read  your  letter  by  yourself." 

Again  she  looked  upon  him  with  the  same  thought  of 
wonder  ;  but  he  gave  her  no  time,  coming  straight  to  where 
she  stood.  "  It  will  be  better  so,  believe  me,"  said  he, 
"and  Colonel  Burke  is  too  considerate  not  to  excuse 
you." 


SUMMAR  Y  OF  E  VENTS.  35 

And  with  that  he  took  her  hand  by  the  fingers,  and  led 
he-r  from  the  hall. 

Mrs.  Henry  returned  no  more  that  night ;  and  when  Mr. 
Hanry  went  to  visit  her  next  morning,  as  I  heard  long 
afterward,  she  gave  him  the  letter  again,  still  unopened. 

"  Oh,  read  it  and  be  done  !  "  he  had  cried. 

"  Spare  me  that,"  said  she. 

And  by  these  two  speeches,  to  my  way  of  thinking,  each 
undid  a  great  part  of  what  they  had  previously  done  well. 
But  the  letter,  sure  enough,  came  into  my  hands  and  by  me 
was  burned,  unopened. 

To  be  very  exact  as  to  the  adventures  of  the  Master  after 
Culloden,  I  wrote  not  long  ago  to  Colonel  Burke,  now  a 
Chevalier  of  the  Order  of  St.  Louis,  begging  him  for  some 
notes  in  writing,  since  I  could  scarce  depend  upon  my 
memory  at  so  great  an  interval.  To  confess  the  truth,  I 
have  been  somewhat  embarrassed  by  his  response  ;  for  he. 
sent  me  the  complete  memoirs  of  his  life,  touching  only  in 
places  on  the  Master  ;  running  to  a  much  greater  length 
than  my  whole  story,  and  not  everywhere  (as  it  seems  to  me) 
designed  for  edification.  He  begged  in  his  letter,  dated 
from  Ettenheim,  that  I  would  find  a  publisher  for  the  whole, 
after  I  had  made  what  use  of  it  I  required  ;  and  I  think  I 
shall  best  answer  my  own  purpose  and  fulfill  his  wishes  by 
printing  certain  parts  of  it  in  full.  In  this  way  my  readers 
will  have  a  detailed  and  I  believe  a  very  genuine  account  of 
some  essential  matters  ;  and  if  any  publisher  should  take  a 
fancy  to  the  Chevalier's  manner  of  narration,  he  knows 
where  to  apply  for  the  rest,  of  which  there  is  plenty  at  his 
service.  I  put  in  my  first  extract  here,  so  that  it  may  stand 
in  the  place  of  what  the  Chevalier  told  us  over  our  wine  in 
the  hall  of  Durrisdeer  ;  but  you  are  to  suppose  it  was  not 
the  brutal  fact,  but  a  very  varnished  version  that  he  offered 
to  my  lord. 


THE  MASTER'S  WANbERlNGs. 
From  the  Memoirs  of  the  Chevalier  de  Burktr. 

....  I  LEFT  Ruthven  ( it's  hardly  necessary  to  remark) 
with  much  greater  satisfaction  than  I  had  come  to  it ;  but 
whether  I  missed  my  way  in  the  deserts,  or  whether  my 
companions  failed  me,  I  soon  found  myself  alone.  This 
was  a  predicament  very  disagreeable  ;  for  I  never  under- 
stood this  horrid  country  or  savage  people,  and  the  last 
stroke  of  the  Prince's  withdrawal  had  made  us  of  the  Irish 
more  unpopular  than  ever.  I  was  reflecting  on  my  poor 
chances,  when  I  saw  another  horseman  on  the  hill,  whom  I 
supposed  at  first  to  have  been  a  phantom,  the  news  of  his 
death  in  the  very  front  at  Culloden  being  current  in  the 
^  army  generally.  This  was  the  Master  of  Ballantrae,  my 
Lord  Durrisdeer's  son,  a  young  nobleman  of  the  rarest  gal- 
lantry and  parts,  and  equally  designed  by  nature  to  adorn 
a  court  and  to  reap  laurels  in  the  field.  Our  meeting  was 
the  more  welcome  to  both,  as  he  was  one  of  the  few  Scots 
iwho  had  used  the  Irish  with  consideration,  and  as  he  might 
now  be  of  very  high  utility  in  aiding  my  escape.  Yet  what 
founded  our  particular  friendship  was  a  circumstance  by  it- 
self, as  romantic  as  any  fable  of  King  Arthur. 

This  was  on  the  second  day  of  our  flight,  after  we  had 
slept  one  night  in  the  rain  upon  the  inclination  of  a  moun- 
tain. There  was  an  Appin  man,  Alan  Black  Stewart  (or 
some  such  name,*  but  I  have  seen  him  since  in  France),  who 

*  Note  by  Mr.  Mackellar :  Should  not  this  be  Alan  Breck  Stewart,  after- 
ward notorious  as  the  Appin  murderer  ?  The  Chevalier  is  sometimes  very 
w^eak  on  names. 

36 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS.  37 

«hanced  to  be  passing  the  same  way,  and  had  a  jealousy  of 
my  companion.  Very  uncivil  expressions  were  exchanged  ; 
and  Stewart  calls  upon  the  Master  to  alight  and  have  it  out. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Stewart,"  says  the  Master,  "  I  think  at  the  ; 
present  time,  I  would  prefer  to  run  a  race  with  you."  And^^ 
with  the  word  claps  spurs  to  his  horse. 

Stewart  ran  after  us,  a  childish  thing  to  do,  for  more  than 
a  mile ;  and  I  could  not  help  laughing,  as  I  looked  back  at 
last  and  saw  him  on  the  hill,  holding  his  hand  to  his  side 
and  nearly  burst  with  running. 

"  But  all  the  same,"  I  could  not  help  saying  to  my  com- 
panion, "I  would  let  no  man  run  after  me  for  any  such 
proper  purpose,  and  not  give  him  his  desire.  It  was  a 
good  jest,  but  it  smells  a  trifle  cowardly." 

He  bent  his  brows  at  me.     "  I  do  pretty  well,"  says  he,,, 
"when  I  saddle  myself  with  the  most  unpopular  man  in 
Scotland,  and  let  that  suffice  for  courage." 

"  Oh,  bedad,"  says  I,  "  I  could  show  you  a  more  unpopu- 
lar with  the  naked  eye.  And  if  you  like  not  my  company, 
you  can  'saddle'  yourself  on  some  one  else." 

*'  Colonel  Burke,"  says  he,  "  do  not  let  us  quarrel  ;  and 
to  that  effect,  let  me  assure  you  I  am  the  least  patient  man 
in  the  world." 

**  I  am  as  little  patient  as  yourself,"  said  I.  "I^are  not 
who  knows  that." 

"  At  this  rate,"  says  he,  reining  in,  "  we  shall  not  go  very 
far.  And  I  propose  we  do  one  of  two  things  upon  the  in- 
stant :  either  quarrel  and  be  done  ;  or  make  a  sure  bargain 
to  bear  everything  at  each  other's  hands." 

"  Like  a  pair  of  brothers  ?"  said  I. 

**  I  said  no  such  foolishness,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  a 
brother  of  my  own,  and  I  think  no  more  of  him  than  of  a 
colewort  But  if  we  are  to  have  our  noses  rubbed  together 
in  this  course  of  flight,  let  us  each  dare  to  be  ourselves  like 
savages^  and  each  swear  that  he  will  neither  resent  nor 


Z^  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

deprecate  the  other.  I  am  a  pretty  bad  fellow  at  bottom, 
and  I  find  the  pretense  of  virtues  very  irksome." 

*'  O,  I  am  as  bad  as  yourself,"  said  I.  "  There  is  no  skim 
milk  in  Francis  Burke.  But  which  is  it  to  be?  Fight  or 
make  friends?" 

"Why,"  says  he,  **  I  think  it  will  be  the  best  manner  to 
*^^spin  a  coin  for  it." 

This  proposition  was  too  highly  chivalrous  not  to  take 
my  fancy  :  and  strange  as  it  may  seem  of  two  well-born 
gentlemen  of  to-day,  we  span  a  half-crown  (like  a  pair  of 
ancient  paladins)  whether  we  were  to  cut  each  other's 
throats  or  be  sworn  friends.  A  more  romantic  circumstance 
can  rarely  have  occurred  ;  and  it  is  one  of  those  points  in 
my  memoirs,  by  which  we  may  see  the  old  tales  of  Homer 
and  the  poets  are  equally  true  to-day,  at  least  of  the  noble 
and  genteel.  The  coin  fell  for  peace,  and  we  shook  hands 
^i  upon  our  bargain.  And  then  it  was  that  my  companion 
explained  to  me  his  thought  in  running  away  from  Mr. 
Stewart,  which  was  certainly  worthy  of  his  political  intel- 
lect. The  report  of  his  death,  he  said,  was  a  great  guard 
to  him;  Mr.  Stewart  having  recognized  him,  had  become  a 
danger  ;  and  he  had  taken  the  briefest  road  to  that  gentle- 
man's silence.  '*  For,"  says  he,  "Alan  Black  is  too  vain  a 
man  to  narrate  any  such  story  of  himself." 

Toward  afternoon,  we  came  down  to  the  shores  of  that 
loch  for  which  we  were  heading  ;  and  there  was  the  ship 
but  newly  come  to  anchor.  She  was  the  Sainte-Marie-des- 
Anges,  out  of  the  port  of  Havre-de-Grace.  The  Master, 
after  we  had  signaled  for  a  boat,  asked  me  if  I  knew  the 
captain.  I  told  him  he  was  a  countryman  of  mine,  of  the 
most  unblemished  integrity,  but,  I  was  afraid,  a  rather 
timorous  man. 

"  No  matter,"  says  he.  "  For  all  that,  he  should  certainly 
hear  the  truth." 

I  ask^d  him  if  he  meant  about  the  battle  ?  for  if  the  cap- 


THE  MASTER 'S  WANDERINGS,  39 

tain  once  knew  the  standard  was  down,  he  would  certainly 
put  to  sea  again  at  once. 

"  And  even  then  !  "  said  he  ;  "  the  arms  are  now  of  no 
sort  of  utility." 

"  My  dear  man,"  said  I,  "  who  thinks  of  the  arms  ?  But 
to  be  sure  we  must  remember  our  friends.  They  will  be 
close  upon  our  heels,  perhaps  the  Prince  himself,  and  if  the 
ship  be  gone,  a  great  number  of  valuable  lives  may  be 
imperiled." 

"  The  captain  and  the  crew  have  lives  also,  if  you  come 
to  that,"  says  Ballantrae. 

This  I  declared  was  but  a  quibble,  and  that  I  would  not 
hear  of  the  captain  being  told  :  and  then  it  was  that  Ballan- 
trae made  me  a  witty  answer,  for  the  sake  of  which  (and 
also  because  I  have  been  blamed  myself  in  this  business  of 
the  Sainie-Marie-deS'Aftges)  I  have  related  the  whole  con- 
versation as  it  passed. 

"  Frank,"  says  he,  "  remember  our  bargain.  I  must  not 
object  to  your  holding  your  tongue,  which  I  hereby  even 
encourage  you  to  do ;  but  by  the  same  terms,  you  are  not 
to  resent  my  telling." 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  this  ;  though  I  still  fore- 
warned him  what  would  come  of  it. 

"  The  devil  may  come  of  it  for  what  I  care,"  says  the 
reckless  fellow.  **  I  have  always  done  exactly  as  I  felt 
inclined." 

As  is  well  known,  my  prediction  came  true.  The  captain 
had  no  sooner  heard  the  news,  than  he  cut  his  cable  and  to 
sea  again  ;  and  before  morning  broke,  we  were  in  the  Great 
Minch. 

The  ship  was  very  old  ;  and  the  skipper  although  the 
most  honest  of  men  (and  Irish  too)  was  one  of  the  least 
capable.  The  wind  blew  very  boisterous,  and  the  sea  raged 
extremely.  All  that  day,  we  had  little  heart  whether  to  eat 
or  drink  ;  went  early  to  rest  in  some  concern  of  mind  ;  an^ 


40  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

(as  if  to  give  us  a  lesson)  in  the  night,  the  wind  chopped 
suddenly  into  the  northeast,  and  blew  a  hurricane.  We 
were  awaked  by  the  dreadful  thunder  of  the  tempest  and 
the  stamping  of  the  mariners  on  deck  ;  so  that  I  supposed 
our  last  hour  was  certainly  come  ;  and  the  terror  of  my 
mind  was  increased  out  of  all  measure  by  Ballantrae,  who 
mocked  at  my  devotions.  It  is  in  hours  like  these  that  a 
man  of  any  piety  appears  in  his  true  light,  and  we  find 
(what  we  are  taught  as  babes)  the  small  trust  that  can  be 
set  in  worldly  friends  :  I  would  be  unworthy  of  my  religion 
if  I  let  this  pass  without  particular  remark.  For  three  days 
we  lay  in  the  dark  in  the  cabin,  and  had  but  a  biscuit  to 
nibble.  On  the  fourth,  the  wind  fell,  leaving  the  ship  dis- 
masted and  heaving  on  vast  billows.  The  captain  had  not 
a  guess  of  whither  we  were  blown  ;  he  was  stark  ignorant 
of  his  trade,  and  could  do  naught  but  bless  the  Holy  Virgin  : 
a  very  good  thing  too,  but  scarce  the  whole  of  seamanship. 
It  seemed  our  one  hope  was  to  be  picked  up  by  another 
vessel  ;  and  if  that  should  prove  to  be  an  English  ship,  it 
might  be  no  great  blessing  to  the  Master  and  myself. 

The  fifth  and  sixth  days  we  tossed  there  helpless.  The 
seventh,  some  sail  was  got  on  her,  but  she  was  an  unwieldy 
vessel  at  the  best,  and  we  made  little  but  leeway.  All  the 
time,  indeed,  we  had  been  drifting  to  the  south  and  west, 
and  during  the  tempest  must  have  driven  in  that  direction 
•vith  unheard-of  violence.  The  ninth  dawn  was  cold  and 
black,  with  a  great  sea  running,  and  every  mark  of  foul 
weather.  In  this  situation,  we  were  overjoyed  to  sight  a 
small  ship  on  the  horizon,  and  to  perceive  her  go  about  and 
head  for  the  Sainte-Marie.  But  our  gratification  did  not 
very  long  endure  ;  for  when  she  had  laid  to  and  lowered  a 
boat,  it  was  immediately  filled  with  disorderly  fellows,  who 
sang  and  shouted  as  they  pulled  across  to  us,  and  swarmed 
in  on  our  deck  with  bare  cutlasses,  cursing  loudly.  Their 
leader  was  a  horrible  villain,  with  his  face  blacked  and  his 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS.  ^\ 

whiskers  curled  in  ringlets  :  Teach,  his  name  ;  a  most  noto- 
rious pirate.  He  stamped  about  the  deck,  raving  and  cry- 
ing out  that  his  name  was  Satan  and  his  ship  was  called 
Hell.  There  was  something  about  him  like  a  wicked  child 
or  a  half-witted  person,  that  daunted  me  beyond  expression. 
I  whispered  in  the  ear  of  Ballantrae,  that  I  would  not  be 
the  last  to  volunteer,  and  only  prayed  God  they  might  be 
short  of  hands :  he  approved  my  purpose  with  a  nod. 

"  Bedad,"  said  I  to  Master  Teach,  "  if  you  are  Satan, 
here  is  a  divil  for  ye." 

The  word  pleased  him ;  and  (not  to  dwell  upon  these 
shocking  incidents)  Ballantrae  and  I  and  two  others  were 
taken  for  recruits,  while  the  skipper  and  all  the  rest  were ' 
cast  into  the  sea  by  the  method  of  walking  the  plank.  It  \ 
was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  this  done  ;  my  heart  died 
within  me  at  the  spectacle  ;  and  Master  Teach  or  one  of  his 
acolytes  (for  my  head  was  too  much  lost  to  be  precise) 
remarked  upon  my  pale  face  in  a  very  alarming  manner.  I 
had  the  strength  to  cut  a  step  or  two  of  a  jig  and  cry  out 
some  ribaldry,  which  saved  me  for  that  time  ;  but  my  legs 
were  like  water  when  I  must  get  down  into  the  skiff  among 
these  miscreants  ;  and  what  with  my  horror  of  my  company 
and  fear  of  the  monstrous  billows,  it  was  all  I  could  do  to 
keep  an  Irish  tongue  and  break  a  jest  or  two  as  we  were 
pulled  aboard.  By  the  blessing  of  God,  there  was  a  fiddle 
in  the  pirate  ship,  which  I  had  no  sooner  seen  than  I  fell 
upon  ;  and  in  my  quality  of  crowder,  I  had  the  heavenly 
good  luck  to  get  favor  in  their  eyes.  Crowding  Pat^  was/' 
the  name  they  dubbed  me  with  ;  and  it  was  little  I  cared 
for  a  name  so  long  as  my  skin  was  whole. 

What  kind  of  a  pandemonium  that  vessel  was,  I  cannot 
describe,  but  she  was  commanded  by  a  lunatic,  and  might 
be  called  a  floating  Bedlam.  Drinking,  roaring,  singing, 
quarreling,  dancing,  they  were  never  all  sober  at  one  time  ; 
and  there  were  days  together,  when  if  a  squall  had  super- 


42  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Tcned,  it  must  have  sent  us  to  the  bottom,  or  if  a  king's 
ship  had  come  along,  it  would  have  found  us  quite  helpless 
for  defense.  Once  or  twice,  we  sighted  a  sail,  and  if  we 
were  sober  enough,  overhauled  it,  God  forgive  us  !  and  if 
we  were  all  too  drunk,  she  got  away,  and  I  would  bless  the 
saints  under  my  breath.  Teach  ruled,  if  you  can  call  that 
rule  which  brought  no  order,  by  the  terror  he  created  ;  and 
I  observed  the  man  was  very  vain  of  his  position.  I  have 
known  marshals  of  France,  ay,  and  even  Highland  chieftains 
that  were  less  openly  puffed  up  ;  which  throws  a  singular 
light  on  the  pursuit  of  honor  and  glory.  Indeed  the  longer 
we  live,  the  more  we  perceive  the  sagacity  of  Aristotle  and 
the  other  old  philosophers  ;  and  though  I  have  all  my  life 
been  eager  for  legitimate  distinctions,  I  can  lay  my  hand 
upon  my  heart,  at  the  end  of  my  career,  and  declare  there 
is  not  one — no,  nor  yet  life  itself — which  is  worth  acquiring 
or  preserving  at  the  slightest  cost  of  dignity. 

It  was  long  before  I  got  private  speech  of  Ballantrae  ; 
but  at  length  one  night  we  crept  out  upon  the  boltsprit, 
when  the  rest  were  better  employed,  and  commiserated  our 
position. 

"  None  can  deliver  us  but  the  saints,"  said  I. 

"  My  mind  is  very  different,"  said  Ballantrae  ;  "  for  I  am 
going  to  deliver  myself.  This  Teach  is  the  poorest  crea- 
ture possible  ;  we  make  no  profit  of  him  and  lie  continually 
open  to  capture  ;  and,"  says  he,  "  I  am  not  going  to  be  a 
tarry  pirate  for  nothing,  nor  yet  to  hang  in  chains  if  I  can 
help  it."  And  he  told  me  what  was  in  his  mind  to  better 
the  state  of  the  ship  in  the  way  of  discipline,  which  would 
give  us  safety  for  the  present,  and  a  sooner  hope  of  deliver- 
ance when  they  should  have  gained  ;enough  and  should 
break  up  their  company. 

I  confessed  to  him  ingenuously  that  my  nerve  was  quite 
shook  amid  these  horrible  surroundings,  and  I  durst  scarce 
tell  him  to  count  upon  me. 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS.  43 

**  I  am  not  very  easy  frightened,"  said  he,  "  nor  very  easy 
beat." 

A  few  days  after,  there  befell  an  accident  which  had 
nearly  hanged  us  all  ;  and  offers  the  most  extraordinary 
picture  of  the  folly  that  ruled  in  our  concerns.  We  were  all 
pretty  drunk  :  and  some  bedlamite  spying  a  sail,  Teach  put 
the  ship  about  in  chase  without  a  glance,  and  we  began  to 
bustle  up  the  arms  and  boast  of  the  horrors  that  should  fol- 
low. I  observed  Ballantrae  stood  quiet  in  the  bows,  look- 
ing under  the  shade  of  his  hand  ;  but  for  my  part,  true  to 
my  policy  among  these  savages,  I  was  at  work  with  the 
busiest,  and  passing  Irish  jests  for  their  diversion. 

"  Run  up  the  colors,"  cries  Teach.     <*  Show  tjie s  the 

Jolly  Roger  ! " 

It  was  the  merest  drunken  braggadocio  at  such  a  stage, 
and  might  have  lost  us  a  valuable  prize  ;  but  I  thought  it 
no  part  of  mine  to  reason,  and  I  ran  up  the  black  flag  with 
my  own  hand. 

Ballantrae  steps  presently  aft  with  a  smile  upon  his  face. 

"  You  may  perhaps  like  to  know,  you  drunken  dog,"  says 
he,  "  that  you  are  chasing  a  king's  ship." 

Teach  roared  him  the  lie  ;  but  he  ran  at  the  same  time 
to  the  bulwarks,  and  so  did  they  ail.  I  have  never  seen  so 
many  drunken  men  struck  suddenly  sober.  The  cruiser 
had  gone  about,  upon  our  impudent  display  of  colors  ;  she 
was  just  then  filling  on  the  new  tack  ;  her  ensign  blew  out 
quite  plain  to  see  ;  and  even  as  we  stared,  there  came  a  puff 
of  smoke,  and  then  a  report,  and  a  shot  plunged  in  the 
waves  a  good  way  short  of  us.  Some  ran  to  the  ropes,  and 
got  the  Sarah  round  with  an  incredible  swiftness.  One 
fellow  fell  on  the  rum  barrel,  which  stood  broached  upon 
the  deck,  and  rolled  it  prompUy  overboard.  On  my  part,  I 
made  for  the  Jolly  Roger,  struck  it,  tossed  it  in  the  sea ; 
and  could  have  flung  myself  after,  so  vexed  was  I  with  our 
mismanagement.    As  for  Teach,  he  grew  as  pale  as  death, 


44  ,     THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

and  incontinently  went  down  to  his  cabin.  Only  twice  he 
came  on  deck  that  afternoon  ;  went  to  the  taffrail  ;  took  a 
long  look  at  the  king's  ship,  which  was  still  on  the  horizon 
heading  after  us  ;  and  then,  without  speech,  back  to  his 
cabin.  You  may  say  he  deserted  us  ;  and  if  it  had  not  been 
for  one  very  capable  sailor  we  had  on  board,  and  for  the 
lightness  of  the  airs  that  blew  all  day,  we  must  certainly 
have  gone  to  the  yard-arm. 

It  is  to  be  supposed  Teach  was  humiliated,  and  perhaps 
alarmed  for  his  position  with  the  crew  ;  and  the  way  in 
which  he  set  about  regaining  what  he  had  lost,  was  highly 
characteristic  of  the  man.  Early  next  day,  we  smelled  him 
burning  sulphur  in  his  cabin  and  crying  out  of  "  Hell, 
hell  !  "  which  was  well  understood  among  the  crew,  and 
filled  their  minds  with  apprehension.  Presently  he  comes 
on  deck,  a  perfect  figure  of  fun,  his  face  blacked,  his  hair 
and  whiskers  curled,  his  belt  stuck  full  of  pistols  ;  chewing 
,/bits  of  glass  so  that  the  blood  ran  down  his  chin,  and 
brandishing  a  dirk.  I  do  not  know  if  he  had  taken  these 
manners  from  the  Indians  of  America,  where  he  was  a  na- 
tive ;  but  such  was  his  way,  and  he  would  always  thus  an- 
nounce that  he  was  wound  up  to  horrid  deeds.  The  Arst 
that  came  near  him  was  the  fellow  who  had  sent  the  rum 
overboard  the  day  before ;  him  he  stabbed  to  the  heart, 
damning  him  for  a  mutineer  ;  and  then  capered  about  the 
body,  raving  and  swearing  and  daring  us  to  come  on.  It 
I  was  the  silliest  exhibition  ;  and  yet  dangerous  too,  for  the 
^  cowardly  fellow  was  plainly  working  himself  up  to  another 
murder. 

All  of  a  sudden,  Ballantrae  stepped  forth.     "  Have  done 

with  this  play-acting,"  says  he.     "  Do  you  think  to  frighten 

us  with  making  faces  ?    We  saw  nothing  of  you  yesterday 

'•    when  you  were  wanted  ;  and  we  did  well  without  you,  let 

me  tell  you  that." 

There  was  a  murmur  and  a  movement  in  the  crew,  of 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS.  45 

pleasure  and  alarm,  I  thought,  in  nearly  equal  parts.  As 
for  Teach,  he  gave  a  barbarous  howl,  and  swung  his  dirk  to 
fling  it,  an  art  in  which  (like  many  seamen)  he  was  very 
expert. 

"  Knock  that  out  of  his  hand  !  "  says  Ballantrae,  so  sud- 
den and  sharp  that  my  arm  obeyed  him  before  my  mind  had 
understood. 

Teach  stood  like  one  stupid,  never  thinking  on  his 
pistols. 

"  Go  down  to  your  cabin,"  cries  Ballantrae,  "  and  come 
on  deck  again  when  you  are  sober.  Do  you  think  we  are 
going  to  hang  for  you,  you  black-faced,  half-witted,  drunken 
brute  and  butcher  ?  Go  down  ! "  And  he  stamped  his 
foot  at  him  with  such  a  sudden  smartness  that  Teach  fairly 
ran  for  it  to  the  companion. 

"  And  now,  mates,"  says  Ballantrae,  "  a  word  with  you. 
I  don't  know  if  you  are  gentlemen  of  fortune  for  the  fun  of 
the  thing ;  but  I  am  not.  I  want  to  make  money,  and  get 
ashore  again,  and  spend  it  like  a  man.  And  on  one  thing 
my  mind  is  made  up :  I  will  not  hang  if  I  can  help  it. 
Come  :  give  me  a  hint ;  I'm  only  a  beginner  !  Is  there  no 
way  to  get  a  little  discipline  and  common  sense  about  this 
business  ?  " 

One  of  the  men  spoke  up  :  he  said  by  rights  they  should 
have  a  quartermaster ;  and  no  sooner  was  the  word  out  of 
his  mouth,  than  they  were  all  of  that  opinion.  The  thing 
went  by  acclamation,  Ballantrae  was  made  quartermaster, 
the  rum  was  put  in  his  charge,  laws  were  passed  in  imitation  ' 
of  those  of  a  pirate  by  the  name  of  Roberts ;  and  the  last 
proposal  was  to  make  an  end  of  Teach.  But  Ballantrae 
was  afraid  of  a  more  efficient  captain,  who  might  be  a 
counterweight  to  himself,  and  he  opposed  this  stoutly. 
Teach,  he  said,  was  good  enough  to  board  ships  and  frighten 
fools  with  his  blacked  face  and  swearing ;  we  could  scarce 
get  a  better  man  than  Teach  for  that ;  and  besides,  as  the 


46  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

man  was  now  disconsidered  and  as  good  as  deposed,  we 
might  reduce  his  proportion  of  the  plunder.  This  carried 
it ;  Teach's  share  was  cut  down  to  a  mere  derision,  being 
actually  less  than  mine  ;  and  there  remained  only  two 
points  :  whether  he  would  consent,  and  who  was  to  announce 
to  him  this  resolution. 

"  Do  not  let  that  stick  you,"  says  Ballantrae,  "  I  will  do 
that." 

And  he  stepped  to  the  companion  and  down  alone  into 
the  cabin  to  face  that  drunken  savage. 

"  This  is  the  man  for  us,"  cries  one  of  the  hands.  "  Three 
cheers  for  the  quartermaster  !  "  which  were  given  with  a 
will,  my  own  voice  among  the  loudest,  and  I  dare  say  these 
plaudits  had  their  effect  on  Master  Teach  in  the  cabin,  as 
we  have  seen  of  late  days  how  shouting  in  the  streets  may 
trouble  even  the  minds  of  legislators. 

What  passed  precisely  was  never  known,  though  some  of 
the  heads  of  it  came  to  the  surface  later  on  ;  and  we  were 
all  amazed  as  well  as  gratified,  when  Ballantrae  came  on 
deck  with  Teach  upon  his  arm,  and  announced  that  all  had 
been  consented. 

I  pass  swiftly  over  those  twelve  or  fifteen  months  in 
which  we  continued  to  keep  the  sea  in  the  North  Atlantic, 
getting  our  food  and  water  from  the  ships  we  overhauled 
and  doing  on  the  whole  a  pretty  fortunate  business.  Sure 
no  one  could  wish  to  read  anything  so  ungenteel  as  the 
memoirs  of  a  pirate,  even  an  unwilling  one  like  me  !  Things 
went  extremely  better  with  our  designs,  and  Ballantrae  kept 
his  lead  to  my  admiration  from  that  day  forth.  I  would  be 
tempted  to  suppose  that  a  gentleman  must  everywhere  be 
first,  even  aboard  a  rover  ;  but  my  birth  is  every  whit  as 
good  as  any  Scottish  lord's,  and  I  am  not  ashamed  to  con- 
fess that  I  stayed  Crowding  Pat  until  the  end,  and  was  not 
much  better  than  the  crew's  buffoon.  Indeed  it  was  no 
^cene  to  bring  out  my  merits.     My  health  suffered  from  ft. 


THE  MASTEk'S  WAJ^DERINGS.  47 

variety  of  reasons ;  I  was  more  at  home  to  the  last  on  a 
horse's  back  than  a  ship's  deck  ;  and  to  be  ingenuous,  the 
fear  of  the  sea  was  constantly  in  my  mind,  battling  with  the 
fear  of  my  companions.  I  need  not  cry  myself  up  for 
courage  ;  I  have  done  well  on  many  fields  under  the  eyes 
of  famous  generals,  and  earned  my  late  advancement  by  an 
act  of  the  most  distinguished  valor  before  many  witnesses. 
But  when  we  must  proceed  on  one  of  our  abordages,  the 
heart  of  Francis  Burke  was  in  his  boots ;  the  little  egg-shell 
skiff  in  which  we  must  set  forth,  the  horrible  heaving  of  the 
vast  billows,  the  height  of  the  ship  that  we  must  scale,  the 
thought  of  how  many  might  be  there  in  garrison  upon  their 
legitimate  defense,  the  scowling  heavens  which  (in  that 
climate)  so  often  looked  darkly  down  upon  our  exploits,  and 
the  mere  crying  of  the  wind  in  my  ears,  were  all  considera- 
tions most  unpalatable  to  my  valor.  Besides  which,  as  I 
was  always  a  creature  of  the  nicest  sensibility,  the  scenes 
that  must  follow  on  our  success  tempted  me  as  little  as  the 
chances  of  defeat.  Twice  we  found  women  on  board  ;  and 
though  I  have  seen  towns  sacked,  and  of  late  days  in  France 
some  very  horrid  public  tumults,  there  was  something  in 
the  smallness  of  the  numbers  engaged  and  the  bleak,  dan- 
gerous sea-surroundings  that  made  these  acts  of  piracy  far 
the  most  revolting.  I  confess  ingenuously  I  could  never 
proceed,  unless  I  was  three  parts  drunk  ;  it  was  the  same 
even  with  the  crew  ;  Teach  himself  was  fit  for  no  enterprise 
till  he  was  full  of  rum ;  and  it  was  one  of  the  most  difficult 
parts  of  Ballantrae's  performance,  to  serve  us  with  liquor  inv= 
the  proper  quantities.  Even  this  he  did  to  admiration ;  , 
being  upon  the  whole  the  most  capable  man  I  ever  met  with, 
and  the  one  of  the  most  natural  genius.  He  did  not  even 
scrape  favor  with  the  crew,  as  I  did,  by  continual  buffoon- 
ery made  upon  a  very  anxious  heart ;  but  preserved  on 
most  occasions  a  great  deal  of  gravity  and  distance  ;  so  that 
he  was  like  a  parent  among  a  family  of  young  children  or  a 


4^  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

schoolmaster  with  his  boys.  What  made  his  part  the  harder 
to  perform,  the  men  were  most  inveterate  grumblers ;  Bal- 
lantrae's  discipline,  little  as  it  was,  was  yet  irksome  to  their 
love  of  license ;  and  what  was  worse,  being  kept  sober  they 
had  time  to  think.  Some  of  them  accordingly  would  fall  to 
repenting  their  abominable  crimes;  one  in  particular,  who 
'Was  a  good  Catholic  and  with  whom  I  would  sometimes 
steal  apart  for  prayer ;  above  all  in  bad  weather,  fogs,  lash- 
ing rain  and  the  like,  when  we  would  be  the  less  observed ; 
and  I  am  sure  no  two  criminals  in  the  cart  have  ever  per- 
formed their  devotions  with  more  anxious  sincerity.  But 
the  rest,  having  no  such  grounds  of  hope,  fell  to  another 
pastime,  that  of  computation.  All  day  long  they  would  be 
telling  up  their  shares  or  glooming  over  the  result.  I  have 
said  we  were  pretty  fortunate.  But  an  observation  fails  to 
be  made :  that  in  this  world,  in  no  business  that  I  have 
tried,  do  the  profits  rise  to  a  man's  expectations.  We  found 
many  ships  and  took  many;  yet  few  of  them  contained  much 
money,  their  goods  were  usually  nothing  to  our  purpose — 
what  did  we  want  with  a  cargo  of  plows  or  even  of  tobac- 
co ? — and  it  is  quite  a  painful  reflection  how  many  whole 
crews  we  have  made  to  walk  the  plank  for  no  more  than  a 
stock  of  biscuit  or  an  anker  or  two  of  spirit. 

In  the  mean  while,  our  ship  was  growing  very  foul,  and 
it  was  high  time  we  should  make  for  our  port  de  carrinage^ 
which  was  in  the  estuary  of  a  river  among  swamps.  It  was 
openly  understood,  that  we  should  then  break  up  and  go 
and  squander  our  proportions  of  the  spoil ;  and  this  made 
every  man  greedy  of  a  little  more,  so  that  our  decision  was 
delayed  from  day  to  day.  What  finally  decided  matters 
was  a  trifling  accident,  such  as  an  ignorant  person  might 
suppose  incidental  to  our  way  of  life.  But  here  I  must 
explain  :  on  only  one  of  all  the  ships  we  boarded,  the  first 
on  which  we  found  women,  did  we  meet  with  any  gei^uine 
resistance.     On  that  occasion,  we  had  two  men  killed^  and 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS.  49 

leveral  injured,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  gallantry  of 
Ballantrae,  we  had  surely  been  sent  back  at  last.  Every- 
where else,  the  defense  (where  there  was  any  at  all)  was 
what  the  worst  troops  in  Europe  would  have  laughed  at ; 
so  that  the  most  dangerous  part  of  our  employment  was  to 
clamber  up  the  side  of  the  ship  ;  and  I  have  even  known 
the  poor  souls  on  board  to  cast  us  a  line,  so  eager  were 
they  to  volunteer  instead  of  walking  the  plank.  This  con- 
stant immunity  had  made  our  fellows  very  soft,  so  that  I 
understood  how  Teach  had  made  so  deep  a  mark  upon 
their  minds  ;  for  indeed  the  company  of  that  lunatic  was 
the  chief  danger  in  our  way  of  life.  The  accident  to  which 
I  have  referred  was  this.  We  had  sighted  a  little  full-rigged 
ship  very  close  under  our  board  in  a  haze  ;  she  sailed  near 
as  well  as  we  did — I  should  be  nearer  truth,  if  I  said  near 
as  ill ;  and  we  cleared  the  bow-chaser  to  see  if  we  could 
bring  a  spar  or  two  about  their  ears.  The  swell  was  exceed- 
ing great ;  the  motion  of  the  ship  beyond  description  ;  it 
was  little  wonder  if  our  gunners  should  fire  thrice  and  be 
still  quite  broad  of  what  they  aimed  at.  But  in  the  mean 
while,  the  chase  had  cleared  a  stern  gun,  the  thickness  of 
the  air  concealing  them  ;  and  being  better  marksmen,  their 
first  shot  struck  us  in  the  bows,  knocked  our  two  gunners 
into  mince-meat,  so  that  we  were  all  sprinkled  with  the 
blood,  and  plunged  through  the  deck  into  the  forecastle, 
where  we  slept.  Ballantrae  would  have  held  on  ;  indeed 
there  was  nothing  in  this  contretemps  to  affect  the  mind  of 
any  soldier  ;  but  he  had  a  quick  perception  of  the  men's 
wishes,  and  it  was  plain  this  lucky  shot  had  given  them  a 
sickener  of  their  trade.  In  a  moment,  they  were  all  of  one 
mind  :  the  chase  was  drawing  away  from  us,  it  was  needless 
to  hold  on,  the  Sarah  was  too  foul  to  overhaul  a  bottle,  it 
was  mere  foolery  to  keep  the  sea  with  her  ;  on  these  pre- 
tended grounds,  her  head  was  incontinently  put  about  and 
the  course  laid  for  the  river.     It  was  strange  to  see  what 


|o  THE  MASTER  OJ^  BALLA^TkAM, 

merriment  fell  on  that  ship's  company,  and  how  they 
stamped  about  the  deck  jesting,  and  each  computing  what 
increase  had  come  to  his  share  by  the  death  of  the  two 
gunners. 

We  were  nine  days  making  our  port,  so  light  were  the 
airs  we  had  to  sail  on,  so  foul  the  ship's  bottom  ;  but  early 
on  the  tenth,  before  dawn,  and  in  a  light,  lifting  haze,  we 
passed  the  head.  A  little  after,  the  haze  lifted,  and  fell 
again,  showing  us  a  cruiser  very  close.  This  was  a  sore 
blow,  happening  so  near  our  refuge.  There  was  a  great 
debate  of  whether  she  had  seen  us,  and  if  so  whether  it  was 
likely  they  had  recognized  the  Sarah.  We  were  very  care- 
ful, by  destroying  every  member  of  those  crews  we  over- 
hauled, to  leave  no  evidence  as  to  our  own  persons ;  but 
the  appearance  of  the  Sarah  herself  we  could  not  keep  so 
private  ;  and  above  all  of  late,  since  she  had  been  foul  and 
we  had  pursued  many  ships  without  success,  it  was  plain 
that  her  description  had  been  often  published.  I  supposed 
this  alert  would  have  made  us  separate  upon  the  instant. 
But  here  again  that  original  genius  of  Ballantrae's  had  a 
surprise  in  store  for  me.  He  and  Teach  (and  it  was  the 
most  remarkable  step  of  his  success)  had  gone  hand  iu 
hand  since  the  first  day  of  his  appointment.  I  often  ques- 
tioned him  upon  the  fact  and  never  got  an  answer  but  once 
when  he  told  me  he  and  Teach  had  an  understanding 
"which  would  very  much  surprise  the  crew  if  they  should 
hear  of  it,  and  would  surprise  himself  a  good  deal  if  it  was 
carried  out."  Well,  here  again,  he  and  Teach  were  of  a 
mind  ;  and  by  their  joint  procurement,  the  anchor  was  no 
sooner  down,  than  the  whole  crew  went  off  upon  a  scene  of 
drunkenness  indescribable.  By  afternoon,  we  were  a  mere 
shipful  of  lunatical  persons,  throwing  of  things  overboard, 
howling  of  different  songs  at  the  same  time,  quarreling  and 
falling  together  and  then  forgetting  our  quarrels  to  embrace. 
Ballantrae  had  bidden  me  drink  nothing  and  feign  drunken- 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS.  5I 

nefefi  as  I  valued  my  life ;  and  I  have  never  passed  a  day  so 
wearisomely,  lying  the  best  part  of  the  time  upon  the  fore- 
castle and  watching  the  swamps  and  thickets  by  which  our 
little  basin  was  entirely  surrounded  for  the  eye.  A  little 
after  dusk,  Ballantrae  stumbled  up  to  my  side,  feigned  to 
fall,  with  a  drunken  laugh,  and  before  he  got  his  feet  again, 
whispered  me  to  "  reel  down  into  the  cabin  and  seem  to  fall 
asleep  upon  a  locker,  for  there  would  be  need  of  me  soon." 
I  did  as  I  was  told,  and  coming  into  the  cabin,  where  it  was 
quite  dark,  let  myself  fall  on  the  first  locker.  There  was  a 
man  there  already  ;  by  the  way  he  stirred  and  threw  me  off, 
I  could  not  think  he  was  much  in  liquor  ;  and  yet  when  I 
had  found  another  place,  he  seemed  to  continue  to  sleep  on. 
My  heart  now  beat  very  hard,  for  I  saw  some  desperate 
matter  was  in  act.  Presently  down  came  Ballantrae,  lit  the 
lamp,  looked  about  the  cabin,  nodded  as  if  pleased,  and  on 
deck  again  without  a  word.  I  peered  out  from  between  my 
fingers,  and  saw  there  were  three  of  us  slumbering,  or  feign- 
ing to  slumber,  on  the  lockers  :  myself,  one  Button,  and  one 
Grady,  both  resolute  men.  On  deck,  the  rest  were  got  to 
a  pitch  of  revelry  quite  beyond  the  bounds  of  what  is 
human  ;  so  that  no  reasonable  name  can  describe  the  sounds 
they  were  now  making.  I  have  heard  many  a  drunken  bout 
in  my  time,  many  on  board  that  very  Sarah,  but  never  any- 
thing the  least  like  this,  which  made  me  early  suppose  the 
liquor  had  been  tampered  with.  It  was  a  long  while  before 
these  yells  and  howls  died  out  into  a  sort  of  miserable 
moaning,  and  then  to  silence  ;  and  it  seemed  a  long  while 
after  that,  before  Ballantrae  came  down  again,  this  time 
with  Teach  upon  his  heels.  The  latter  cursed  at  the  sight 
of  us  three  upon  the  lockers. 

"Tut,"  says  Ballantrae,  "you  might  "fire  a  pistol  at  their 
ears.     You  know  what  stuff  they  have  been  swallowing." 

There  was  a  hatch  in  the  cabin  floor,  and  under  that  the 
richest  part  of  the  booty  was  stored  against  the  day  of 


5*  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

division.  It  fastened  with  a  ring  and  three  padlocks,  the 
keys  (for  greater  security)  being  divided  ;  one  to  Teach, 
one  to  Ballantrae,  and  one  to  the  mate,  a  man  called  Ham- 
mond.  Yet  I  was  amazed  to  see  they  were  now  all  in  the 
one  hand  ;  and  yet  more  amazed  (still  looking  through  my 
fingers)  to  observe  Ballantrae  and  Teach  bring  up  several 
packets,  four  of  them  in  all,  very  carefully  made  up  and 
with  a  loop  for  carriage. 

"  And  now,"  says  Teach,  "  let  us  be  going." 

"  One  word,"  says  Ballantrae,  "  I  have  discovered  there  is 
another  man  besides  yourself  who  knows  a  private  path 
across  the  swamp.      And  it  seems  it  is  shorter  than  yours." 

Teach  cried  out,  in  that  case,  they  were  undone. 

"  I  do  not  know  for  that,"  says  Ballantrae.  *'  For  therq 
are  several  other  circumstances  with  which  I  must  acquaint 
you.  First  of  all,  there  is  no  bullet  in  your  pistols  which 
(if  you  remember)  I  was  kind  enough  to  load  for  both  of  us 
this  morning.  Secondly,  as  there  is  some  one  else  who 
knows  a  passage,  you  must  think  it  highly  improbable  I 
should  saddle  myself  with  a  lunatic  like  you.  Thirdly,  these 
gentlemen  (who  need  no  longer  pretend  to  be  asleep)  are 
those  of  my  party,  and  will  now  proceed  to  gag  and  bind  you 
to  the  mast ;  and  when  your  men  awaken  (if  they  ever  do 
awake  after  the  drugs  we  have  mingled  in  their  liquor)  I  am 
sure  they  will  be  so  obliging  as  to  deliver  you,  and  you  will 
have  no  difficulty,  I  dare  say,  to  explain  the  business  of  the 
keys." 

Not  a  word  said  Teach,  but  looked  at  us  like  a  frightened 
baby,  as  we  gagged  and  bound  him. 

"  Now  you  see,  you  moon-calf,"  says  Ballantrae,  **  why 
we  made  four  packets.  Heretofore  you  have  been  called 
Captain  Teach,  but  I  think  you  are  now  rather  Captain 
Learn." 

That  was  our  last  word  on  board  the  Sarah;  we  four  with 
our  four  packets  lowered  ourselves  softly  into  a  skiff,  and 


THE  MASTER'S  miNDERmCS.  53 

left  that  ship  behind  us  as  silent  as  the  grave,  only  for  the 
moaning  of  some  of  the  drunkards.  There  was  a  fog  about 
breast-high  on  the  waters ;  so  that  Button,  who  knew  the 
passage,  must  stand  on  his  feet  to  direct  our  rowing  ;  and 
this,  as  it  forced  us  to  row  gently,  was  the  means  of  our 
deliverance.  We  were  yet  but  a  little  way  from  the  ship, 
when  it  began  to  come  gray,  and  the  birds  to  fly  abroad 
upon  the  water.  All  of  a  sudden,  Button  clapped  down 
upon  his  hams,  and  whispered  us  to  be  silent  for  our  lives, 
and  hearken.  Sure  enough,  we  heard  a  little  faint  creak  of 
oars  upon  one  hand,  and  then  again,  and  further  off,  a 
creak  of  oars  upon  the  other.  It  was  clear,  we  had  been 
sighted  yesterday  in  the  morning  ;  here  were  the  cruiser's 
boats  to  cut  us  out  ;  here  were  we  defenseless  in  their  very 
midst.  Sure,  never  were  poor  souls  more  perilously  placed  ; 
and  as  we  lay  there  on  our  oars,  praying  God  the  mist  might 
hold,  the  sweat  poured  from  my  brow.  Presently  we  heard 
one  of  the  boats,  where  we  might  have  thrown  a  biscuit  in 
her.  "  Softly,  men,"  we  heard  an  officer  whisper ;  and  I 
marveled  they  could  not  hear  the  drumming  of  my  heart. 

"  Never  mind  the  path,"  says  Ballantrae,  "  we  must  get 
shelter  anyhow  ;  let  us  pull  straight  ahead  for  the  sides  of 
the  basin." 

This  we  did  with  the  most  anxious  precaution,  rowing,  as 
best  we  could,  upon  our  hands,  and  steering  at  a  venture 
in  the  fog  which  was  (for  all  that)  our  only  safety.  But 
Heaven  guided  us  ;  we  touched  ground  at  a  thicket  ; 
scrambled  ashore  with  our  treasure ;  and  having  no  other 
way  of  concealment,  and  the  mist  beginning  already  to 
lighten,  hove  down  the  skiff  and  let  her  sink.  We  were  still 
but  new  under  cover  when  the  sun  rose  ;  and  at  the  same 
time,  from  the  midst  of  the  basin,  a  great  shouting  of  sea- 
men sprang  up,  and  we  knew  the  Sarah  was  being  boarded. >, 
I  heard  afterward  .  the  officer  that  took  her  got  great 
honor  ;  and  it's  true  the  approach  was  creditably  managed, 


54  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

but  I  think   he  had   an  easy  capture  when  he  came  to 
board.* 

/     I  was  still  blessing  the  saints  for  my  escape  ;    when  I 

^  became  aware  we  were  in   trouble  of  another  kind.     We 

were  here  landed  at  random  in  a  vast  and  dangerous  swamp  ; 

■  and  how  to  come  at  the  path  was  a  concern  of  doubt,  fatigue, 
and  peril.  Button,  indeed,  was  of  opinion  we  should  wait 
until  the  ship  was  gone,  and  fish  up  the  skiff ;  for  any 
delay  would  be  more  wise  than  to  go  blindly  ahead  in  that 
morass.  One  went  back  accordingly  to  the  basin-side  and 
(peering  through  the  thicket) saw  the  fog  already  quite  drunk 
up  and  English  colors  flying  on  the  Sarah,  but  no  movement 
made  to  get  her  under  way.  Our  situation  was  now  very 
doubtful.  The  swamp  was  an  unhealthful  place  to  linger 
in  ;  we  had  been  so  greedy  to  bring  treasures,  that  we  had 
brought  but  little  food  ;  it  was  highly  desirable,  besides, 
that  we  should  get  clear  of  the  neighborhood  and  into  the 
settlements,  before  the  news  of  the  capture  went  abroad  ; 
and  against  all  these  considerations,  there  was  only  the 
peril  of  the  passage  on  the  other  side.  I  think  it  not  won- 
derful we  decided  on  the  active  part. 

It  was  already  blistering  hot,  when  we  set  forth  to  pass 
the  marsh,  or  rather  to  strike  the  path,  by  compass.  Button 
took  the  compass,  and  one  or  other  of  us  three  carried  his 
proportion  of  the  treasure  ;  I  promise  you  he  kept  a  sharp 
eye  to  his  rear,  for  it  was  like  the  man's  soul  that  he  must 
trust  us  with.  The  thicket  was  as  close  as  a  bush  ;  the 
ground  very  treacherous,  so  that  we  often  sank  in  the  most 
terrifying  manner,  and  must  go  round  about ;  the  heat, 
besides,  was  stifling,  the  air  singularly  heavy,  and  the 
stinging  insects  abounded  in  such  myriads  that  each  of  us 

*  Note  by  Mr.  Mackellar  :  This  Teach  of  the  Sarah  must  not  he  confused 
with  the  celebrated  Blackbeard.  The  dates  and  facts  by  no  meaivs  tally.  It 
is  possible  the  second  Teach  may  have  at  once  borrowed  the  name  and 
imitated  the  more  excessive  part  of  his  manners  from  thte  first.  B&vfcn  ttie 
Master  c/f  Bkittemtrae  coulid  mak'Q  atittken. 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS.  55 

walked  under  his  own  cloud.  It  has  often  been  commented 
on,  how  much  better  gentlemen  of  birth  endure  fatigue  than 
parsons  of  the  rabble  ;  so  that  walking  officers,  who  must 
tramp  in  the  dirt  beside  their  men,  shame  them  by  their 
constancy.  This  was  well  to  be  observed  in  the  present  in- 
stance ;  for  here  were  Ballantrae  and  I,  two  gentlemen  of 
the  highest  breeding,  on  the  one  hand  ;  and  on  the  other,' 
Grady,  a  common  mariner,  and  a  man  nearly  a  giant  in 
physical  strength.  The  case  of  Button  is  not  in  point,  for 
I  confess  he  did  as  well  as  any  of  us.*  But  as  for  Grady  he 
began  early  to  lament  his  case,  tailed  in  the  rear,  refused 
to  carry  Button's  packet  when  it  came  his  turn,  clamored 
continually  for  rum  (of  which  we  had  too  little)  and  at  last 
even  threatened  us  from  behind  with  a  cocked  pistol,  unless 
we  should  allow  him  rest.  Ballantrae  would  have  fought  it 
out,  I  believe  ;  but  I  prevailed  with  him  the  other  way  ;  and 
we  made  a  stop  and  ate  a  meal.  It  seemed  to  benefit 
Grady  little  ;  he  was  in  the  rear  again  at  once,  growling  and 
bemoaning  his  lot ;  and  at  last,  by  some  carelessness,  not 
having  followed  properly  in  our  tracks,  stumbled  into  a  deep 
part  of  the  slough  where  it  was  mostly  water,  gave  some 
very  dreadful  screams,  and  before  we  could  come  to  his  aid, 
had  sunk  along  with  his  booty.  His  fate  and  above  all 
these  screams  of  his  appalled  us  to  the  soul ;  yet  it  was  on  the 
whole  a  fortunate  circumstance  and  the  means  of  our  deliver- 
ance. For  it  moved  Button  to  mount  into  a  tree,  whence 
he  was  able  to  perceive  and  to  show  me,  who  had  climbed 
after  him,  a  high  piece  of  the  wood  which  was  a  landmark 
for  the  path.  He  went  forward  the  more  carelessly,  I  must 
suppose ;  for  presently  we  saw  him  sink  a  little  down,  draw 
up  his  feet  and  sink  again,  and  so  twice.  Then  he  turned 
his  face  to  us,  pretty  white. 

"  Lend  me  a  hand,"  said  he,  "  I  am  in  a  bad  place.'* 

Note  by  Mr.  Mackellar :    And  is  not  this  the  whole  explanation  ?  since  this 
Duttcw,  «3ceuify  Hke  the  officers,  enjoyed  the  stimuhis  of  somfe  nesjwnslblMty, 


S6  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Ballantrae,  standing 
still. 

Button  broke  out  into  the  most  violent  oaths,  sinking  a 
little  lower  as  he  did,  so  that  the  mud  was  nearly  to  his 
waist ;  and  plucking  a  pistol  from  his  belt,  **  Help  me,"  he 
cries,  "  or  die  and  be  damned  to  you  !  " 

"  Nay,"  says  Ballantrae,  "  I  did  but  jest.  I  am  com- 
ing." And  he  set  down  his  own  packet  and  Button's,  which 
he  was  then  carrying.  "  Bo  not  venture  near  till  we  see  if 
you  are  needed,"  said  he  to  me,  and  went  forward  alone  to 
where  the  man  was  bogged.  He  was  quiet  now,  though  he 
still  held  the  pistol  ;  and  the  marks  of  terror  in  his  counte- 
nance were  very  moving  to  behold. 

"  For  the  Lord's  sake,"  says  he,  "  look  sharp." 

Ballantrae  was  now  got  close  up.  "  Keep  still,"  says  he, 
and  seemed  to  consider ;  and  then  "  Reach  out  both  your 
hands  !  " 

Button  laid  down  his  pistol,  and  so  watery  was  the  top 
surface,  that  it  went  clear  out  of  sight  ;  with  an  oath,  he 
stooped  to  snatch  it  :  and  as  he  did  so,  Ballantrae  leaned 
forth  and  stabbed  him  between  the  shoulders.  Up  went 
his  hands  over  his  head,  I  know  not  whether  with  the 
pain  or  to  ward  himself  ;  and  the  next  moment  he  doubled 
forward  in  the  mud. 

Ballantrae  was  already  over  the  ankles,  but  he  plucked 
himself  out  and  came  back  to  me,  where  I  stood  with  my 
knees  smiting  one  another.  "  The  devil  take  you,  Francis  !  " 
says  he.  "  I  believe  you  are  a  half-hearted  fellow  after 
all.  I  have  only  done  justice  on  a  pirate.  And  here  we 
are  quite  clear  of  the  Sarah!  Who  shall  now  say  that  we 
have  dipped  our  hands  in  any  irregularities  t  " 

I  assured  him  he  did  me  injustice  ;  but  my  sense  of 
humanity  was  so  much  affected  by  the  horridness  of  the 
fact  that  I  could  scarce  find  breath  to  answer  with. 

"  Come,"  said  he, "  you  must  be  more  resolved.    The  need 


THE  MASTER'S  WA^NDERINGS.  57 

for  this  fellow  ceased  when  he  had  shown  you  where  the 
path  ran  f-  and  you  cannot  deny  I  would  have  been  daft  to 
let  slip  so  fair  an  opportunity." 

I  could  not  deny  but  he  was  right  in  principle  ;  nor  yet 
could  I  refrain  from  shedding  tears,  of  which  I  think  no 
man  of  valor  need  have  been  ashamed  ;  and  it  was  not  until 
I  had  a  share  of  the  rum  that  I  was  able  to  proceed.  I 
repeat  I  am  far  from  ashamed  of  my  generous  emotion  ; 
mercy  is  honorable  in  the  warrior  ;  and  yet  I  cannot  alto- 
gether censure  Ballantrae,  whose  step  was  really  fortunate, 
as  we  struck  the  path  without  further  misadventure,  and 
the  same  night,  about  sundown,  came  to  the  edge  of  the 
morass. 

We  were  too  weary  to  seek  far  ;  on  some  dry  sands  still 
warm  with  the  day's  sun,  and  close  under  a  wood  of  pines, 
we  lay  down  and  were  instantly  plunged  in  sleep. 

We  awaked  the  next  morning  very  early,  and  began  with 
a  sullen  spirit  a  conversation  that  came  near  to  end  in 
blows.  AVe  were  now  cast  on  shore  in  the  southern  prov- 
inces, thousands  of  miles  from  any  French  settlement ;  a 
dreadful  journey  and  a  thousand  perils  lay  in  front  of  us  ; 
and  sure,  if  there  was  ever  need  for  amity,  it  was  in  such 
an  hour.  I  must  suppose  that  Ballantrae  had  suffered  in 
his  sense  of  what  is  truly  polite  ;  indeed,  and  there  is  noth- 
ing strange  in  the  idea,  after  the  sea-wolves  we  had  con- 
sorted with  so  long  ;  and  as  for  myself  he  fubbed  me  off 
unhandsomely,  and  any  gentleman  would  have  resented  his 
behavior. 

I  told  him  in  what  light  I  saw  his  conduct ;  he  walked  a 
little  off,  I  following  to  upbraid  him  ;  and  at  last  he  stopped 
me  with  his  hand. 

"  Frank,"  says  he,  ^'  you  know  what  we  swore  ;  and  yet 
there  is  no  oath  invented  would  induce  me  to  swallow  such 
expressions,  if  I  did  not  regard  you  with  sincere  affection. 
It  is  impossible  you  should  doubt  me  there:  I  have  given 


5^  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

proofs.  Dutton  I  had  to  take,  because  he  knew  the  pass, 
and  Grady  because  Dutton  would  not  move  without  him  ; 
but  what  call  was  there  to  carry  you  along  ?  You  are  a 
perpetual  danger  to  me  with  your  cursed  Irish  tongue.  By 
rights  you  should  now  be  in  irons  in  the  cruiser.  And  you 
quarrel  with  me  like  a  baby  for  some  trinkets  !  " 

I  considered  this  one  of  the  most  unhandsome  speeches 
ever  made  ;  and  indeed  to  this  day  I  can  scarce  reconcile  it 
to  my  notion  of  a  gentleman  that  was  my  friend.  I  retorted 
upon  him  with  his  Scotch  accent,  of  which  he  had  not 
so  much  as  some,  but  enough  to  be  very  barbarous  and 
disgusting,  as  I  told  him  plainly ;  and  the  affair  would 
have  gone  to  a  great  length,  but  for  an  alarming  inter- 
vention. 

We  had  got  some  way  off  upon  the  sand.  The  place 
where  he  had  slept,  with  the  packets  lying  undone  and  the 
money  scattered  openly,  was  now  between  us  and  the  pines  ; 
and  it  was  out  of  these  the  stranger  must  have  come.  There 
he  was  at  least,  a  great  hulking  fellow  of  the  country,  with 
a  broad  axe  on  his  shoulder,  looking  open-mouthed,  now  at 
the  treasure  which  was  just  at  his  feet,  and  now  at  our  dis- 
putation, in  which  we  had  gone  far  enough  to  have  weapons 
in  our  hands.  We  had  no  sooner  observed  him  than  he 
found  his  legs  and  made  off  again  among  the  pines. 

This  was  no  scene  to  put  our  minds  at  rest  ;  a  couple  of 
armed  men  in  sea-clothes  found  quarreling  over  a  treasure, 
not  many  miles  from  where  a  pirate  had  been  captured — 
here  was  enough  to  bring  the  whole  country  about  our  ears. 
The  quarrel  was  not  even  made  up  ;  it  was  blotted  from  our 
minds  ;  and  we  got  our  packets  together  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye  and  made  off,  running  with  the  best  will  in  the 
world.  But  the  trouble  was,  we  did  not  know  in  what  direc- 
tion, and  must  continually  return  upon  our  steps.  Ballan- 
trae  had  indeed  collected  what  he  could  from  Dutton  ;  but 
it*s  hard  to  travel  upon  hearsay  ;  and  the  estuary,  which 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS,  59 

Spreads  into  a  vast  irregular  harbor,  turned  us  off  upon 
every  side  with  a  new  stretch  of  water. 

We  were  near  beside  ourselves  and  already  quite  spent 
with  running,  when  coming  to  the  top  of  a  dune,  we  saw  we 
were  again  cut  off  by  another  ramification  of  the  bay. 
This  was  a  creek,  however,  very  different  from  those  that 
had  arrested  us  before  ;  being  set  in  rocks,  and  so  precipi- 
tously deep,  that  a  small  vessel  was  able  to  lie  alongside, 
made  fast  with  a  hawser ;  and  her  crew  had  laid  a  plank  to 
the  shore.  Here  they  had  lighted  a  fire  and  were  sitting  at 
their  meal.  As  for  the  vessel  herself,  she  was  one  of  those 
they  build  in  the  Bermudas. 

The  love  of  gold  and  the  great  hatred  that  everybody 
has  to  pirates  were  motives  of  the  most  influential,  and^' 
would  certainly  raise  the  country  in  our  pursuit.  Besides 
it  was  now  plain  we  were  on  some  sort  of  straggling 
peninsula  like  the  fingers  of  a  hand  ;  and  the  wrist,  or 
passage  to  the  mainland,  which  we  should  have  taken  at  the 
first,  was  by  this  time  not  improbably  secured.  These  con- 
siderations put  us  on  a  bolder  counsel.  For  as  long  as  we 
dared,  looking  every  moment  to  hear  the  sounds  of  the 
chase,  we  lay  among  some  bushes  on  the  top  of  the  dune ; 
and  having  by  this  means  secured  a  little  breath  and  recom- 
posed  our  appearance,  we  strolled  down  at  last,  with  a 
great  affectation  of  carelessness,  to  the  party  by  the  fire. 

It  was  a  trader  and  his  negroes,  belonging  to  Albany  in 
the  province  of  New  York,  and  now  on  the  way  home  from 
the  Indies  with  a  cargo  ;  his  name  I  cannot  recall.  We 
were  amazed  to  learn  he  had  put  in  here  from  terror  of  the 
Sarah ;  for  we  had  no  thoughts  our  exploits  had  been  so 
notorious.  As  soon  as  the  Albanian  heard  she  had  been 
taken  the  day  before,  he  jumped  to  his  feet,  gave  us  a  cup 
of  spirits  for  our  good  news,  and  sent  his  negroes  to  get 
sail  on  the  Bermudan.  On  our  side,  we  profited  by  the  dram 
to  become  more  confidential,  and  at  last  offered  ourselves 


6o  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

as  passengers.  He  looked  askance  at  our  tarry  clothes 
and  pistols,  and  replied  civilly  enough  that  he  had  scarce 
accommodation  for  himself  ;  nor  could  either  our  prayers 
or  our  offers  of  money,  in  which  we  advanced  pretty  far, 
avail  to  shake  him. 

"  I  see  you  think  ill  of  us,"  says  Ballantrae,  "  but  I  will 
show  you  how  well  we  think  of  you  by  telling  you  the  truth. 
We  are  Jacobite  fugitives,  and  there  is  a  price  upon  our 
heads." 

At  this,  the  A,  banian  was  plainly  moved  a  little.  He 
asked  us  many  questions  as  to  the  Scotch  war,  which  Bal- 
lantrae very  patiently  answered.  And  then,  with  a  wink, 
in  a  vulgar  manner,  "  I  guess  you  and  your  Prince  Charlie 
got  more  than  you  cared  about,"  said  he. 

"  Bedad,  and  that  we  did,"  said  I.  *'  And  my  dear  man, 
I  wish  you  would  set  a  new  example  and  give  us  just  that 
much." 

This  I  said  in  the  Irish  way,  about  which  there  is  allowed 
to  be  something  very  engaging.  It's  a  remarkable  thing, 
and  a  testimony  to  the  love  with  which  our  nation  is  re- 
garded, that  this  address  scarce  ever  fails  in  a  handsome 
fellow.  I  cannot  tell  how  often  I  have  seen  a  private  soldier 
escape  the  horse,  or  a  beggar  wheedle  out  a  good  alms,  by 
a  touch  of  the  brogue.  And  indeed,  as  soon  as  the  Alban- 
ian had  laughed  at  me  I  was  pretty  much  at  rest.  Even 
then,  however,  he  made  many  conditions  and  (for  one  thing) 
took  away  our  arms,  before  he  suffered  us  aboard  ;  which 
was  the  signal  to  cast  off ;  so  that  in  a  moment  after,  we 
were  gliding  down  the  bay  with  a  good  breeze  and  blessing 
the  name  of  God  for  our  deliverance.  Almost  in  the  mouth 
of  the  estuary,  we  passed  the  cruiser,  and  a  little  after,  the 
poor  Sarah  with  her  prize  crew ;  and  these  were  both  sights 
to  make  us  tremble.  The  Bermudan  seemed  a  very  safe 
place  to  be  in,  and  our  bold  stroke  to  have  been  fortunately 
played,  when  wc  were  thus  reminded  of  the  case  of  our 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS,  6 1 

companions.  For  all  that,  we  had  only  exchanged  traps, 
jumped  out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire,  run  from  the 
yard  arm  to  the  block,  and  escaped  the  open  hostility  of 
the  man  of  war  to  lie  at  the  mercy  of  the  doubtful  faith  of 
our  Albanian  merchant. 

From  many  circumstances,  it  chanced  we  were  safer 
than  we  could  have  dared  to  hope.  The  town  of  Albany 
was  at  that  time  much  concerned  in  contraband  trade  across 
the  desert  with  the  Indians  and  the  French.  This,  as  it 
was  highly  illegal,  relaxed  their  loyalty,  and  as  it  brought 
them  in  relation  with  the  politest  people  on  the  earth,  di- 
vided even  their  sympathies.  In  short  they  were  like  all 
the  smugglers  in  the  world,  spies  and  agents  ready-made 
for  either  party.  Our  Albanian  besides  was  a  very  honest 
man  indeed,  and  very  greedy ;  and  to  crown  our  luck,  he 
conceived  a  great  delight  in  our  society.  Before  we  had 
reached  the  town  of  New  York,  we  had  come  to  a  full 
agreement :  that  he  should  carry  us  as  far  as  Albany  upon 
his  ship,  and  thence  put  us  on  our  way  to  cross  the  bounda- 
ries and  join  the  French.  For  all  this  we  were  to  pay  at  a 
high  rate  ;  but  beggars  cannot  be  choosers,  nor  outlaws 
bargainers. 

We  sailed,  then,  up  the  Hudson  River,  which,  I  protest, 
is  a  very  fine  stream,  and  put  up  at  the  King's  Arms  in 
Albany.  The  town  was  full  of  the  militia  of  the  province, 
breathing  slaughter  against  the  French.  Governor  Clinton 
was  there  himself,  a  very  busy  man,  and  by  what  I  could 
learn,  very  near  distracted  by  the  factiousness  of  his  Assem- 
bly. The  Indians  on  both  sides  were  on  the  war-path  ;  we 
saw  parties  of  them  bringing  in  prisoners  and  (what  was 
much  worse)  scalps,  both  male  and  female,  for  which  they 
were  paid  at  a  fixed  rate ;  and  I  assure  you  the  sight  was 
not  encouraging.  Altogether  we  could  scarce  have  come 
at  a  period  more  unsuitable  for  our  designs ;  our  posi- 
tion  in  the  chief  inn  was  dreadfully  conspicuous :   our 


ii  THE  MASTER  OF  B ALLAN TkAS, 

Albanian  fubbed  us  off  with  a  thousand  delays  and  seemed 
upon  the  point  of  a  retreat  from  his  engagements  ;  nothing 
but  peril  appeared  to  environ  the  poor  fugitives ;  and  for 
some  time,  we  drowned  our  concern  in  a  very  irregular 
course  of  living. 

This  too  proved  to  be  fortunate  ;  and  it's  one  of  the  re- 
marks that  fall  to  be  made  upon  our  escape,  how  providen- 
tially our  steps  were  conducted  to  the  very  end.  What  a 
humiliation  to  the  dignity  of  man  !  My  philosophy,  the 
extraordinary  genius  of  BaMantrae,  our  valor,  in  which  1 
grant  we  were  equal — all  these  might  have  proved  insuffi- 
cient without  the  Divine  Blessing  on  our  efforts.  And  how 
true  it  is,  as  the  Church  tells  us,  that  the  Truths  of  Religion 
are  after  all  quite  applicable  even  to  daily  affairs !  At 
least  it  was  in  the  course  of  our  revelry  that  we  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  spirited  youth,  by  the  name  of  Chew. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  daring  of  the  Indian  traders,  very 
well  acquainted  with  the  secret  paths  of  the  wilderness, 
needy,  dissolute,  and  by  a  last  good  fortune,  in  some  dis- 
grace with  his  family.  Him  we  persuaded  to  come  to  our 
relief ;  he  privately  provided  what  was  needful  for  our 
flight ;  and  one  day  we  slipped  out  of  Albany,  without  a 
word  to  our  former  friend,  and  embarked,  a  little  above,  in 
a  canoe. 

To  the  toils  and  perils  of  this  journey,  it  would  require  a 
pen  more  elegant  than  mine  to  do  full  justice.  The  reader 
must  conceive  for  himself  the  dreadful  wilderness  which  we 
had  now  to  thread  ;  its  thickets,  swamps,  precipitous  rocks,, 
impetuous  rivers,  and  amazing  waterfalls.  Among  these 
barbarous  scenes,  we  must  toil  all  day,  now  paddling,  now 
carrying  our  canoe  upon  our  shoulders  ;  and  at  night  we 
slept  about  a  fire,  surrounded  by  the  howling  of  wolves  and 
other  savage  animals.  It  was  our  design  to  mount  the 
headwaters  of  the  Hudson,  to  the  neighborhood  of  Crown 
Point ;  where  the  French  had  a  strong  place  in  the  wo^)ds, 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS.  63 

Upon  Lake  Champlain.  But  to  have  done  this  directly 
were  too  perilous  ;  and  it  was  accordingly  gone  upon  by 
such  a  labyrinth  of  rivers,  lakes,  and  portages  as  makes  my 
head  giddy  to  remember.  These  paths  were  in  ordinary 
times  entirely  desert  ;  but  the  country  was  now  up,  the 
tribes  on  the  war-path,  the  woods  full  of  Indian  scouts. 
Again  and  again  we  came  upon  these  parties,  when  we 
least  expected  them  ;  and  one  day,  in  particular,  I  shall 
never  forget  ;  how,  as  dawn  was  coming  in,  we  were  sud- 
denly surrounded  by  five  or  six  of  these  painted  devils, 
uttering  a  very  dreary  sort  of  cry  and  brandishing  their 
hatchets.  It  passed  off  harmlessly  indeed,  as  did  the  rest 
of  our  encounters ;  for  Chew  was  well  known  and  highly 
valued  among  the  different  tribes.  Indeed  he  was  a  very 
gallant,  respectable  young  man.  But  even  with  the  ad- 
vantage of  his  companionship,  you  must  not  think  these 
meetings  were  without  sensible  peril.  To  prove  friendship 
on  our  part,  it  was  needful  to  draw  upon  our  stock  of  rum — 
indeed,  under  whatever  disguise,  that  is  the  true  business 
of  the  Indian  trader,  to  keep  a  traveling  public  house  in  the 
forest ;  and  when  once  the  braves  had  got  their  bottle  of 
scaura  (as  they  call  this  beastly  liquor)  it  behooved  us  to 
set  forth  and  paddle  for  our  scalps.  Once  they  were  a  little 
drunk,  good-by  to  any  sense  or  decency  ;  they  had  but  the 
one  thought,  to  get  more  scaura  ;  they  might  easily  take  it 
in  their  heads  to  give  us  chase  ;  and  had  we  been  over- 
taken, I  had  never  written  these  memoirs. 

We  were  come  to  the  most  critical  portion  of  our  course, 
where  we  might  equally  expect  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
French  or  English,  when  a  terrible  calamity  befell  us.  Chew 
was  taken  suddenly  sick  with  symptoms  like  those  of  poison, 
and  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours  expired  in  the  bottom  of 
the  canoe.  We  thus  lost  at  once  our  guide,  our  interpre- 
ter, our  boatman,  and  our  passporte,  for  he  was  all  these  in 
one  ;  and  found  ourselves  reduced,  at  a  blow,  to  the  most 


64  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

desperate  and  irremediable  distress.  Chew,  who  took  a 
great  pride  in  his  knowledge,  had  indeed  often  lectured  us 
on  the  geography  ;  and  Ballantrae,  I  believe,  would  listen. 
But  for  my  part  I  have  always  found  such  information  highly 
tedious ;  and  beyond  the  fact  that  we  were  now  in  the 
country  of  the  Adirondack  Indians,  and  not  so  distant  from 
our  destination,  could  we  but  have  found  the  way,  I  was  en- 
tirely ignorant.  The  wisdom  of  my  course  was  soon  the  more 
apparent ;  for  with  all  his  pains,  Ballantrae  was  no  further 
advanced  than  myself.  He  knew  we  must  continue  to  go 
up  one  stream ;  then,  by  way  of  a  portage,  down  another  ; 
and  then  up  a  third.  But  you  are  to  consider  in  a  mountain 
country,  how  many  streams  come  rolling  in  from  every 
hand.  And  how  is  a  gentleman,  who  is  a  perfect  stranger 
in  that  part  of  the  world,  to  tell  any  one  of  them  from 
any  other  ?  Nor  was  this  our  only  trouble.  We  were  great 
novices,  besides,  in  handling  a  canoe ;  the  portages  were 
almost  beyond  our  strength,  so  that  I  have  seen  us  sit  down 
in  despair  for  half  an  hour  at  a  time  without  one  word  ; 
and  the  appearance  of  a  single  Indian,  since  we  had  now  no 
means  of  speaking  to  them,  would  have  been  in  all  proba- 
bility the  means  of  our  destruction.  There  is  altogether 
some  excuse  if  Ballantrae  showed  something  of  a  glooming 
disposition  ;  his  habit  of  imputing  blame  to  others,  quite  as 
capable  as  himself,  was  less  tolerable,  and  his  language  it 
was  not  always  easy  to  accept.  Indeed  he  had  contracted 
on  board  the  pirate  ship  a  manner  of  address  which  was  in  a 
high  degree  unusual  between  gentlemen ;  and  now  when 
you  might  say  he  was  in  a  fever,  it  increased  upon  him 
hugely. 

The  third  day  of  these  wanderings,  as  we  were  carrying 
the  canoe  upon  a  rocky  portage,  she  fell  and  was  entirely 
bilged.  The  portage  was  between  two  lakes,  both  pretty 
extensive  ;  the  track,  such  as  it  was,  opened  at  both  ends 
upon  the  water,  and  on  both  hands  was  enclosed  by  the  un- 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS.  6$ 

broken  woods ;  and  the  sides  of  the  lakes  were  quite  im- 
passable with  bog  ;  so  that  we  beheld  ourselves  not  only 
condemned  to  go  without  our  boat  and  the  greater  part  of 
our  provisions,  but  to  plunge  at  once  into  impenetrable  < 
thickets  and  to  desert  what  little  guidance  we  still  had, — 
the  course  of  the  river.  Each  stuck  his  pistols  in  his  belt, 
shouldered  an  axe,  made  a  pack  of  his  treasure  and  as 
much  food  as  he  could  stagger  under  ;  and  deserting  the 
rest  of  our  possessions,  even  to  our  swords,  which  would 
have  much  embarrassed  us  among  the  woods,  we  set  forth 
on  this  deplorable  adventure.  The  labors  of  Hercules,  so 
finely  described  by  Homer,  were  a  trifle  to  what  we  now 
underwent.  Some  parts  of  the  forest  were  perfectly  dense 
down  to  the  ground,  so  that  we  must  cut  our  way  like  mites 
in  a  cheese.  In  some  the  bottom  was  full  of  deep  swamp, 
and  the  whole  wood  entirely  rotten.  I  have  leaped  on  a 
great  fallen  log  and  sunk  to  the  knees  in  touchwood  ;  I 
have  sought  to  stay  myself,  in  falling,  against  what  looked 
to  be  a  solid  trunk,  and  the  whole  thing  has  whiffed  away 
at  my  touch  like  a  sheet  of  paper.  Stumbling,  falling, 
bogging  to  the  knees,  hewing  our  way,  our  eyes  almost  put 
out  with  twigs  and  branches,  our  clothes  plucked  from  our 
bodies,  we  labored  all  day,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  we  made 
two  miles.  What  was  worse,  as  we  could  rarely  get  a  view 
of  the  country  and  were  perpetually  justled  from  our  path 
by  obstacles,  it  was  impossible  even  to  have  a  guess  in  what 
direction  we  were  moving. 

A  little  before  sundown,  in  an  open  place  with  a  stream 
and  set  about  with  barbarous  mountains,  Ballantrae  threw 
down  his  pack.  ''  I  will  go  no  further,"  said  he,  and  bade 
me  light  the  fire,  damning  my  blood  in  terms  not  proper  for 
a  chairman. 

I  told  him  to  try  to  forget  he  had  ever  been  a  pirate,  and 
to  remember  he  had  been  a  gentleman, 
'  "Are  you  mad  ?  "  he  cried.     **  Don't  cross  me  here!" 


66  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

And  then,  shaking  his  fist  at  the  hills,  "To think,"  cries  he, 
**  that  I  must  leave  my  bones  in  this  miserable  wilderness  ! 
Would  God  I  had  died  upon  the  scaffold  like  a  gentleman  ! " 
This  he  said  ranting  like  an  actor  ;  and  then  sat  biting  his 
fingers  and  staring  on  the  ground,  a  most  unchristian  object. 

I  took  a  certain  horror  of  the  man,  for  I  thought  a  soldier 
and  a  gentlemen  should  confront  his  end  with  more  philoso- 
phy. I  made  him  no  reply,  therefore,  in  words  ;  and  pres- 
ently the  evening  fell  so  chill  that  I  was  glad,  for  my  own 
sake,  to  kindle  a  fire.  And  yet  God  knows,  in  such  an  open 
spot,  and  the  country  alive  with  savages,  the  act  was  little 
short  of  lunacy.  Ballantrae  seemed  never  to  observe  me  ; 
but  at  last,  as  I  was  about  parching  a  little  corn,  he  looked  up. 

"  Have  you  ever  a  brother  ?  "  said  he. 

"  By  the  blessing  of  Heaven,"  said  I,  "not  less  than  five." 

"  I  have  the  one,"  said  he,  with  a  strange  voice  ;  and 
then  presently,  "  He  shall  pay  me  for  all  this,"  he  added. 
And  when  I  asked  him  what  was  his  brother's  part  in-  our 
distress,  "  What  !  "  he  cried,  "  he  sits  in  my  place,  he  bears 
my  name,  he  courts  my  wife  ;  and  I  am  here  alone  with  a 
damned  Irishman  in  this  tooth-chattering  desert  !  Oh,  I 
have  been  a  common  gull  !  "  he  cried. 

The  explosion  was  in  all  ways  so  foreign  to  my  friend's 
nature,  that  I  was  daunted  out  of  all  my  just  susceptibility. 
Sure,  an  offensive  expression,  however  vivacious,  appears  a 
wonderfully  small  affair  in  circumstances  so  extreme  !  But 
here  there  is  a  strange  thing  to  be  noted.  He  had  only 
once  before  referred  to  the  lady  with  whom  he  was  con- 
tracted. That  was  when  we  came  in  view  of  the  town  of 
New  York,  when  he  had  told  me,  if  all  had  their  rights,  he 
was  now  in  sight  of  his  own  property,  for  Miss  Graeme  en- 
joyed a  large  estate  in  the  province.  And  this  was  cer- 
tainly a  natural  occasion  ;  but  now  here  she  was  named  a 
second  time  ;  and  what  is  surely  fit  to  be  observed,  in  this 
very  month,  which  was  November,  '47,  and  /  believe  upon 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS,  67 

that  very  day  as  we  sat  among  these  barbarous  mountains^  his 
brother  and  Miss  Graeme  were  married.  I  am  tiie  least 
superstitious  of  men  ;  but  the  hand  of  Providence  is  here 
displayed  too  openly  not  to  be  remarked.* 

The  next  day,  and  the  next,  were  passed  in  similar  labors  ; 
Ballantrae  often  deciding  on  our  course  by  the  spinning  of 
a  coin  ;  and  once,  when  I  expostulated  on  this  childishness, 
he  had  an  odd  remark  that  I  have  never  forgotten.  "  I 
know  no  better  way,"  said  he,  "  to  express  my  scorn  of 
human  reason."  I  think  it  was  the  third  day,  that  we  found 
the  body  of  a  Christian,  scalped  and  most  abominably  man- 
gled, and  lying  in  a  pudder  of  his  blood  ;  the  birds  of 
the  desert  screaming  over  him,  as  thick  as  flies.  I  cannot 
describe  how  dreadfully  this  sight  affected  us  ;  but  it  robbed 
me  of  all  strength  and  all  hope  for  this  world.  The  same 
day,  and  only  a  little  after,  we  were  scrambling  over  a  part 
of  the  forest  that  had  been  burned,  when  Ballantrae,  who 
was  a  little  ahead,  ducked  suddenly  behind  a  fallen  trunk. 
I  joined  him  in  this  shelter,  whence  we  could  look  abroad 
without  being  seen  ourselves  ;  and  in  the  bottom  of  the 
next  vale,  beheld  a  large  war  party  of  the  savages  going 
by  across  our  line.  There  might  be  the  value  of  a  weak 
battalion  present  ;  all  naked  to  the  waist,  blacked  with 
grease  and  soot,  and  painted  with  white  lead  and  ver- 
milion, according  to  their  beastly  habits.  They  went  one 
behind  another  like  a  string  of  geese,  and  at  a  quickish  trot ; 
so  that  they  took  but  a  little  while  to  rattle  by  and  disap- 
pear again  among  the  woods.  Yet  I  suppose  we  endured  a 
greater  agony  of  hesitation  and  suspense  in  these  few  minutes 
than  goes  usually  to  a  man's  whole  life.  Whether  they 
were  French  or  English  Indians,  whether  they  desired 
scalps  or  prisoners,  whether  we  should  declare  ourselves 
upon  the  chance  or  lie  quiet  and  continue  the  heart-breaking 

*  Note  by  Mr.  Mackellar :  A  complete  blunder  :  there  was  at  this  date  no 
word  of  the  marriage ;  see  above  in  my  own  narration. 


6S  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

business  of  our  journey  ;  sure,  I  think,  these  were  questions 
to  have  puzzled  the  brains  of  Aristotle  himself.  Ballantrae 
turned  to  me  with  a  face  all  wrinkled  up  and  his  teeth 
showing  in  his  mouth,  like  what  I  have  read  of  people  starv- 
ing ;  he  said  no  word,  but  his  whole  appearance  was  a  kind 
of  dreadful  question  : 

"They  may  be  of  the  English  side,"  I  whispered  ;  "  and 
think  !  the  best  we  could  then  hope,  is  to  begin  this  over 
again." 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  he  said.  "  Yet  it  must  come  to  a 
plunge  at  last."  And  he  suddenly  plucked  out  his  coin, 
shook  it  in  his  closed  hands,  looked  at  it,  and  then  lay  down 
with  his  face  to  the  dust. 

Addition  by  Mr.  Mackellar.  I  drop  the  Chevalier's  nar- 
ration at  this  point  because  the  couple  quarreled  and  separ- 
ated the  same  day  ;  and  the  Chevalier's  account  of  the 
quarrel  seems  to  me  (I  must  confess)  quite  incompatible 
with  the  nature  of  either  of  the  men.  Henceforth,  they 
wandered  alone,  undergoing  extraordinary  sufferings  ;  until 
first  one  and  then  the  other  was  picked  up  by  a  party  from 
Fort  St.  Frederick.  Only  two  things  are  to  be  noted. 
And  first  (as  most  important  for  my  purpose)  that  the 
Master  in  the  course  of  his  miseries  buried  his  treasure,  at 
a  point  never  since  discovered,  but  of  which  he  took  a 
drawing  in  his  own  blood  on  the  lining  of  his  hat.  And 
second,  that  on  his  coming  thus  penniless  to  the  Fort,  he  was 
welcomed  like  a  brother  by  the  Chevalier,  who  thence  paid 
his  way  to  France.  The  simplicity  of  Mr.  Burke's  character 
leads  him  at  this  point  to  praise  the  Master  exceedingly  ; 
to  an  eye  more  worldly  wise,  it  would  seem  it  was  the 
Chevalier  alone  that  was  to  be  commended.  I  have  the 
more  pleasure  in  pointing  to  this  really  very  noble  trait  of 
my  esteemed  correspondent,  as  I  fear  I  may  have  wounded 
him  immediately  before.     I  have  refrained  from  comments 


THE  MASTER'S  WANDERINGS.  69 

on  any  of  his  extraordinary  and  (in  my  eyes)  immoral  opin- 
ions, for  I  know  him  to  be  jealous  of  respect.  But  his 
version  of  the  quarrel  is  really  more  than  I  can  reproduce  ; 
for  I  knew  the  Master  myself,  and  a  man  more  insuscep- 
tible of  fear  is  not  conceivable.  I  regret  this  oversight  of 
the  Chevalier's,  and  all  the  more  because  the  tenor  of  his 
narrative  (set  aside  a  few  flourishes)  strikes  me  as  highly 
ingenuous. 


PERSECUTIONS  ENDURED  BY  MR.  HENRY. 

You  can  guess  on  what  part  of  his  adventures  the  Colonel 
principally  dwelled.  Indeed,  if  he  had  heard  it  all,  it  is  to 
be  thought  the  current  of  this  business  had  been  wholly 
altered  ;  but  the  pirate  ship  was  very  gently  touched  upon. 
Nor  did  I  hear  the  Colonel  to  an  end  even  of  that  which  he 
was  willing  to  disclose  ;  for  Mr.  Henry,  having  for  some 
while  been  plunged  in  a  brown  study,  rose  at  last  from  his 
seat  and  (reminding  the  Colonel  there  were  matters  that  he 
must  attend  to)  bade  me  follow  him  immediately  to  the  office. 

Once  there,  he  sought  no  longer  to  dissemble  his  concern, 
walking  to  and  fro  in  the  room  with  a  contorted  face,  and 
passing  his  hand  repeatedly  upon  his  brow. 

"We  have  some  business,"  he  began,  at  last  ;  and  there 
broke  off,  declared  we  must  have  wine,  and  sent  for  a  mag- 
num of  the  best.  This  was  extremely  foreign  to  his  habi- 
tudes ;  and  what  was  still  more  so,  when  the  wine  had 
come,  he  gulped  down  one  glass  upon  another  like  a  man 
careless  of  appearances.     But  the  drink  steadied  him. 

"You  will  scarce  be  surprised,  Mackellar,"  says  he, 
"  when  I  tell  you  that  my  brother  (whose  safety  we  are  all 
rejoiced  to  learn)  stands  in  some  need  of  money." 

I  told  him  I  had  misdoubted  as  much  ;  but  the  time  was 
not  very  fortunate,  as  the  stock  was  low. 

"  Not  mine,"  said  he.  "  There  is  the  money  for  the 
mortgage." 

I  reminded  him  it  was  Mrs.  Henry's. 

"  I  will  be  answerable  to  my  wife,"  he  cried  violently. 

"  And  then,"  said  I,  "  there  is  the  mortgage." 

"  I  know,"  said  he,  *'  it  is  on  that  I  would  consult  yoa  " 

70 


persecutiSns.  It 

I  showed  him  how  unfortunate  a  time  it  was  to  divert  this 
money  from  its  destination ;  and  how  by  so  doing  we  must 
lose  the  profit  of  our  past  economies,  and  plunge  back  the 
estate  into  the  mire.  I  even  took  the  liberty  to  plead  with 
him ;  and  when  he  still  opposed  me  with  a  shake  of  the 
head  and  a  bitter  dogged  smile,  my  zeal  quite  carried  me 
beyond  my  place,  "  This  is  midsummer  madness,"  cried 
I ;  **  and  I  for  one  will  be  no  party  to  it." 

"You  speak  as  though  I  did  it  for  my  pleasure,"  says  he. 
"  But  I  have  a  child  now  ;  and  besides  I  love  order ;  and 
to  say  the  honest  truth,  Mackellar,  I  had  begun  to  take  a^/ 
pride  in  the  estates."  He  gloomed  for  a  moment.  "  But 
what  would  you  have?"  he  went  on.  "Nothing  is  mine, 
nothing.  This  day's  news  has  knocked  the  bottom  out  of 
my  life.  I  have  only  the  name  and  the  shadow  of  things  ; 
only  the  shadow  ;  there  is  no  substance  in  my  rights." 

"  They  will  prove  substantial  enough  before  a  court," 
said  I. 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  burning  eye,  and  seemed  to  re- 
press the  word  upon  his  lips  ;  and  I  repented  what  I  had 
said,  for  I  saw  that  while  he  spoke  of  the  estate  he  had  still 
a  side-thought  to  his  marriage.  And  then,  of  a  sudden,  he 
twitched  the  letter  from  his  pocket,  where  it  lay  all 
crumpled,  smoothed  it  violently  on  the  table,  and  read  these 
words  to  me  with  a  trembling  tongue.  "  *  My  dear  Jacob  * — 
This  is  how  he  begins  !  "  cries  he — " '  My  dear  Jacob,  I 
once  called  you  so,  you  may  remember  ;  and  you  have  now 
done  the  business,  and  flung  my  heels  as  high  as  Criffel.' 
What  do  you  think  of  that,  Mackellar,"  says  he,  "  from  an 
only  brother?  I  declare  to  God  I  liked  him  very  well;  I 
was  always  stanch  to  him  ;  and  this  is  how  he  writes ! 
But  I  will  not  sit  down  under  the  imputation —  (walking  . 
to  and  fro) — I  am  as  good  as  he,  I  am  a  better  man  than  i 
he,  I  call  to  God  to  prove  it !  I  cannot  give  him  all  the  ■ 
monstrous  sum  he  asks  ;  he  knows  the  estate  to  be  incora- 


72  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

petent ;  but  I  will  give  him  what  I  have,  and  it  is  more 
than  he  expects.  I  have  borne  all  this  too  long.  See  what 
he  writes  further  on  ;  read  it  for  yourself  :  *  I  know  you  are 
a  niggardly  dog.'  A  niggardly  dog!  I,  niggardly?  Is 
that  true,  Mackellar  ?  You  think  it  is  ? "  I  really  thought 
he  would  have  struck  me  at  that.  *'  Oh,  you  all  think  so  ! 
.Well,  you  shall  see,  and  he  shall  see,  and  God  shall  see.  If 
I  ruin  the  estate  and  go  barefoot,  I  shall  stuff  this  blood- 
sucker. Let  him  ask  all — all,  and  he  shall  have  it  !  It  is 
all  his  by  rights.  Ah  !  "  he  cried,  **and  I  foresaw  all  this 
and  worse,  when  he  would  not  let  me  go."  He  poured  out 
another  glass  of  wine  and  was  about  to  carry  it  to  his  lips, 
when  I  made  so  bold  as  lay  a  finger  on  his  arm.  He  stopped 
a  moment.  "  You  are  right,"  said  he,  and  flung  glass  and 
all  in  the  fireplace.     "  Come,  let  us  count  the  money." 

I  durst  no  longer  oppose  him  ;  indeed  I  was  very  much 
affected  by  the  sight  of  so  much  disorder  in  a  man  usually 
so  controlled  ;  and  we  sat  down  together,  counted  the 
money,  and  made  it  up  in  packets  for  the  greater  ease  of 
Colonel  Burke,  who  was  to  be  the  bearer.  This  done,  Mr. 
Henry  returned  to  the  hall,  where  he  and  my  old  lord  sat 
all  night  through  with  their  guest. 

A  little  before  dawn  I  was  called  and  set  out  with  the 
Colonel.  He  would  scarce  have  liked  a  less  responsible 
convoy,  for  he  was  a  man  who  valued  himself ;  nor  could 
we  afford  him  one  more  dignified,  for  Mr.  Henry  must  not 
appear  with  the  freetraders.  It  was  a  very  bitter  morning 
Of  wind,  and  as  we  went  down  through  the  long  shrubbery, 
the  Colonel  held  himself  muffled  in  his  cloak. 

*' Sir,"  said  I,  ''this  is  a  great  sum  of  money  that  your 
friend  requires.  I  must  suppose  his  necessities  to  be  very 
great." 

"We  must  suppose  so,"  says  he,  I  thought  dryly,  but  per- 
haps it  was  the  cloak  about  his  mouth. 

"  I  am  only  a  servant  of  the  family,"  said  I.     "  You  may 


PERSECUTIONS,  73 

deal  openly  with  me.  I  think  we  are  likely  to  get  little 
good  by  him  ?  " 

"  My  dear  man,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  Ballantrae  is  a 
gentleman  of  the  most  eminent  natural  abilities,  and  a  man 
that  I  admire  and  that  I  revere,  to  the  very  ground  he  treads 
on."  And  then  he  seemed  to  me  to  pause  like  one  in  a 
difficulty. 

"  But  for  all  that,"  said  I,  "  we  are  likely  to  get  little 
good  by  him  ? " 

"  Sure,  and  you  can  have  it  your  own  way,  my  dear  man," 
says  the  Colonel. 

By  this  time  we  had  come  to  the  side  of  the  creek,  where 
the  boat  awaited  him.  "  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  am  sure  I 
am  very  much  your  debtor  for  all  your  civility,  Mr.  What- 
ever-your-name-is ;  and  just  as  a  last  word,  and  since 
you  show  so  much  intelligent  interest,  I  will  mention  a 
small  circumstance  that  may  be  of  use  to  the  family.  For 
I  believe  my  friend  omitted  to  mention  that  he  has  the 
largest  pension  on  the  Scots  Fund  of  any  refugee  in  Paris  ; 
and  it's  the  more  disgraceful,  sir,"  cries  the  Colonel,  warm- 
ing, "because  there's  not  one  dirty  penny  for  myself." 

He  cocked  his  hat  at  me,  as  if  I  had  been  to  blame  for 
this  partiality  ;  then  changed  again  into  his  usual  swagger- 
ing civility,  shook  me  by  the  hand,  and  set  off  down  to  the 
boat,  with  the  money  under  his  arms,  and  whistling  as  he 
went  the  pathetic  air  of  Shule  Aroon.  It  was  the  first  time 
I  had  heard  that  tune  ;  I  was  to  hear  it  again,  words  and 
all,  as  you  shall  learn  ;  but  I  remember  how  that  little  stave 
of  it  ran  in  my  head,  after  the  freetraders  had  bade  him 
"  Wheesht,  in  the  deil's  name,"  and  the  grating  of  the  oars 
had  taken  its  place,  and  I  stood  and  watched  the  dawn 
creeping  on  the  sea,  and  the  boat  drawing  away  and  the 
lugger  lying  with  her  foresail  backed  awaiting  it. 

The  gap  made  in  our  money  was  a  sore  embarrassment ; 
and  among  other  consequences,  it  had  this ;  that  I  must 


74  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

ride  to  Edinburgh,  and  there  raise  a  new  loan  on  very 
questionable  terms  to  keep  the  old  afloat ;  and  was  thus, 
for  close  upon  three  weeks,  absent  from  the  house  of  Dur- 
risdeer. 

What  passed  in  the  interval,  I  had  none  to  tell  me  ;  but  I 
found  Mrs.  Henry,  upon  my  return,  much  changed  in  her 
demeanor ;  the  old  talks  with  my  lord  for  the  most  part 
pretermitted ;  a  certain  deprecation  visible  toward  her 
husband,  to  whom  I  thought  she  addressed  herself  more 
often ;  and  for  one  thing,  she  was  now  greatly  wrapped  up 
in  Miss  Katharine.  You  would  think  the  change  was 
agreeable  to  Mr.  Henry  !  no  such  matter  !  To  the  con- 
trary, every  circumstance  of  alteration  was  a  stab  to  him  ; 
he  read  in  each  the  avowal  of  her  truant  fancies  :  that 
constancy  to  the  Master  of  which  she  was  proud  while  she 
supposed  him  dead,  she  had  to  blush  for  now  she  knew  he 
was  alive  ;  and  these  blushes  were  the  hated  spring  of  her 
new  conduct.  I  am  to  conceal  no  truth  ;  and  I  will  here 
say  plainly,  I  think  this  was  the  period  in  which  Mr.  Henry 
showed  the  worst.  He  contained  himself,  indeed,  in  pub- 
lic ;  but  there  was  a  deep-seated  irritation  visible  under- 
neath. With  me,  from  whom  he  had  less  concealment,  he 
was  often  grossly  unjust ;  and  even  for  his  wife  he  would 
sometimes  have  a  sharp  retort  ;  perhaps  when  she  had 
ruffled  him  with  some  unwonted  kindness  ;  perhaps  upon 
no  tangible  occasion,  the  mere  habitual  tenor  of  the  man's 
annoyance  bursting  spontaneously  forth.  When  he  would 
thus  forget  himself  (a  thing  so  strangely  out  of  keeping 
with  the  terms  of  their  relation),  there  went  a  shock  through 
the  whole  company  ;  and  the  pair  would  look  upon  each 
other  in  a  kind  of  pained  amazement. 

All  the  time,  too,  while  he  was  injuring  himself  by  this  de- 
fect of  temper,  he  was  hurting  his  position  by  a  silence,  of 
which  I  scarce  know  whether  to  say  it  was  the  child  of 
generosity  or  pride.    The  freetraders  came  again  and  again, 


PERSECUTIONS.  75 

bringing  messengers  from  the  Master,  and  none  departed 
empty-handed.  I  never  durst  reason  with  Mr.  Henry  ;  he 
gave  what  was  asked  of  him  in  a  kind  of  noble  rage.  Per- 
haps because  he  knew  he  was  by  nature  inclining  to  the 
parsimonious,  he  took  a  back-foremost  pleasure  in  the  reck- 
lessness with  which  he  supplied  his  brother's  exigence. 
Perhaps  the  falsity  of  the  position  would  have  spurred  a 
humbler  man  into  the  same  excesses.  But  the  estate  (if  I 
may  say  so)  groaned  under  it ;  our  daily  expenses  were 
shorn  lower  and  lower  ;  the  stables  were  emptied,  all  but 
four  roadsters  ;  servants  were  discharged,  which  raised  a 
dreadful  murmuring  in  the  country  and  heated  up  the  old 
disfavor  upon  Mr.  Henry  ;  and  at  last  the  yearly  visit  to 
Edinburgh  must  be  discontinued. 

This  was  in  1756.  You  are  to  suppose  that  for  seven 
years  this  bloodsucker  had  been  drawing  the  life's  blood 
from  Durrisdeer  ;  and  that  all  this  time  my  patron  had 
held  his  peace.  It  was  an  effect  of  devilish  malice  in  the 
Master,  that  he  addressed  Mr.  Henry  alone  upon  the  matter 
of  his  demands:  and  there  was  never  a  word  to  my  lord. 
The  family  had  looked  on  wondering  at  our  economies. 
They  had  lamented,  I  have  no  doubt,  that  my  patron  had 
become  so  great  a  miser  ;  a  fault  always  despicable,  but  in 
the  young  abhorrent  ;  and  Mr.  Henry  was  not  yet  thirty 
years  of  age.  Still  he  had  managed  the  business  of  Durris- 
deer almost  from  a  boy  ;  and  they  bore  with  these  changes 
in  a  silence  as  proud  and  bitter  as  his  own,  until  the  coping- 
stone  of  the  Edinburgh  visit. 

At  this  time  I  believe  my  patron  and  his  wife  were  rarely 
together  save  at  meals.  Immediately  on  the  back  of  Colonel 
Burke's  announcement  Mrs.  Henry  made  palpable  advances; 
you  might  say  she  had  laid  a  sort  of  timid  court  to  her  hus- 
band, different  indeed  from  her  former  manner  of  unconcern 
and  distance.  I  never  had  the  heart  to  blame  Mr.  Henry 
because  he  recoiled  from  these  advances  ;  nor  yet  to  cen- 


76  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

sure  the  wife,  when  she  was  cut  to  the  quick  by  their  rejec- 
tion. But  the  result  was  an  entire  estrangement,  so  that 
(as  I  say)  they  rarely  spoke  except  at  meals.  Even  the 
matter  of  the  Edinburgh  visit  was  first  broached  at  table  ; 
and  it  chanced  that  Mrs.  Henry  was  that  day  ailing  and 
querulous.  She  had  no  sooner  understood  her  husband's 
meaning  than  the  red  flew  in  her  face. 

"  At  last,"  she  cried,  "  this  is  too  much  !  Heaven  knows 
what  pleasure  I  have  in  my  life,  that  I  should  be  denied  my 
only  consolation.  These  shameful  proclivities  must  be  trod 
down  ;  we  are  already  a  mark  and  an  eyesore  in  the  neigh- 
borhood ;  I  will  not  endure  this  fresh  insanity." 

"  I  cannot  afford  it,"  says  Mr.  Henry. 

"  Afford  ?  "  she  cried.  "  For  shame  !  But  I  have  money 
of  my  own." 

"  That  is  all  mine,  madam,  by  marriage,"  he  snarled,  and 
instantly  left  the  room. 

My  old  lord  threw  up  his  hands  to  heaven,  and  he  and 
his  daughter,  withdrawing  to  the  chimney,  gave  me  a  broad 
hint  to  be  gone.  I  found  Mr.  Henry  in  his  usual  retreat, 
the  steward's  room,  perched  on  the  end  of  the  table  and 
plunging  his  penknife  in  it,  with  a  very  ugly  countenance. 

*'  Mr.  Henry,"  said  I,  "  you  do  yourself  too  much  injus- 
tice ;  and  it  is  time  this  should  cease." 

"  Oh  !  "  cries  he,  "  nobody  minds  here.  They  think  it 
only  natural,  _  I  have  shameful  proclivities.  I  am  a  nig- 
gardly dog,"  and  he  drove  his  knife  up  to  the  hilt.  "But  I 
will  show  that  fellow,"  he  cried,  with  an  oath,  "  I  will  show 
him  which  is  the  more  generous." 

"  This  is  no  generosity,"  said  I,  "  this  is  only  pride." 

*'  Do  you  think  I  want  morality  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  thought  he  wanted  help,  and  I  should  give  it  him, 
willy-nilly  ;  and  no  sooner  was  Mrs.  Henry  gone  to  her 
room,  than  I  presented  myself  at  her  door  and  sought 
admittance. 


PERSECUTIONS.  77 

She  openly  showed  her  wonder.  "What  do  you  want 
with  me,  Mr.  Mackellar?"  said  she. 

"The  Lord  knows,  madam,"  says  I.  "I  have  never 
troubled  you  before  with  any  freedoms  ;  but  this  thing  lies 
too  hard  upon  my  conscience,  and  it  will  out.  Is  it  possi- 
ble that  two  people  can  be  so  blind  as  you  and  my  lord  ? 
and  have  lived  all  these  years  with  a  noble  gentleman  like 
Mr.  Henry,  and  understand  so  little  of  his  nature  ?  " 

"  What  does  this  mean  ? "  she  cried. 

"  Do  you  not  know  where  his  money  goes  to  ?  his — and 
yours — and  the  money  for  the  very  wine  he  does  not  drink 
at  table?"  I  went  on.  "To  Paris — to  that  man!  Eight 
thousand  pounds  has  he  had  of  us  in  seven  years,  and  my 
patron  fool  enough  to  keep  it  secret !  " 

"  Eight  thousand  pounds  !  "  she  repeated.  "  It  is  im- 
possible, the  estate  is  not  sufficient." 

"  God  knows  how  we  have  sweated  farthings  to  produce 
it,"  said  I.  "  But  eight  thousand  and  sixty  is  the  sum, 
beside  odd  shillings.  And  if  you  can  think  my  patron 
miserly  after  that,  this  shall  be  my  last  interference." 

"  You  need  say  no  more,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  said  she. 
"  You  have  done  most  properly  in  what  you  too  modestly 
call  your  interference.  I  am  much  to  blame  ;  you  must 
think  me  indeed  a  very  unobservant  wife — (looking  upon 
me  with  a  strange  smile)— but  I  shall  put  this  right  at 
once.  The  Master  was  always  of  a  very  thoughtless  nature  ; 
but  his  heart  is  excellent ;  he  is  the  soul  of  generosity.  I 
shall  write  to  him  myself.  You  cannot  think  how  you  have 
pained  me  by  this  communication." 

"  Indeed,  madam,  I  had  hoped  to  have  pleased  you," 
said  I,  for  I  raged  to  see  her  still  thinking  of  the  Master, 

"  And  pleased,"  said  she,  "  and  pleased  me  of  course." 

The  same  day  (I  will  not  say  but  what  I  watched)  I  had 
the  satisfaction  to  see  Mr.  Henry  come  from  his  wife's  room 
in  a  state  most  unlike  himself ;  for  his  face  was  all  bloated 


78  THE  MASTER  OF  B ALLAN TRAE. 

with  weeping,  and  yet  he  seemed  to  me  to  walk  upon  the 
air.  By  this,  I  was  sure  his  wife  had  made  him  full  amends 
for  once  ;  "  Ah,"  thought  I,  to  myself,  "  I  have  done  a  brave 
stroke  this  day." 

On  the  morrow,  as  I  was  seated  at  my  books,  Mr.  Henry 
came  in  softly  behind  me,  took  me  by  the  shoulders  and 
shook  me  in  a  manner  of  playfulness.  "I  find  you  area 
faithless  fellow  after  all,"  says  he  ;  which  was  his  only  ref- 
erence to  my  part,  but  the  tone  he  spoke  in  was  more  to  me 
than  any  eloquence  of  protestation.  Nor  was  this  all  I  had 
effected  ;  for  when  the  next  messenger  came  (as  he  did  not 
long  afterward)  from  the  Master,  he  got  nothing  away  with 
him  but  a  letter.  For  some  while  back,  it  had  been  I  my- 
self who  had  conducted  these  affairs  ;  Mr.  Henry  not  set- 
ting pen  to  paper,  and  I  only  in  the  dryest  and  most  formal 
terms.  But  this  letter  I  did  not  even  see  ;  it  would  scarce 
be  pleasant  reading,  for  Mr.  Henry  felt  he  had  his  wife 
behind  him  for  once,  and  I  observed,  on  the  day  it  was  dis- 
patched, he  had  a  very  gratified  expression. 

Things  went  better  now  in  the  family,  though  it  could 
scarce  be  pretended  they  went  well.  There  was  now  at 
least  no  misconception  ;  there  was  kindness  upon  all  sides  ; 
and  I  believe  my  patron  and  his  wife  might  again  have 
drawn  together,  if  he  could  but  have  pocketed  his  pride, 
and  she  forgot  (what  was  the  ground  of  all)  her  brooding 
on  another  man.  It  is  wonderful  how  a  private  thought 
leaks  out ;  it  is  wonderful  to  me  now,  how  we  should  all 
have  followed  the  current  of  her  sentiments  ;  and  though 
she  bore  herself  quietly,  and  had  a  very  even  disposition, 
yet  we  should  have  known  whenever  her  fancy  ran  to  Paris. 
And  would  not  any  one  have  thought  that  my  disclosure 
must  have  rooted  up  that  idol  ?  I  think  there  is  the  devil 
in  women  :  all  these  years  passed,  never  a  sight  of  the  man, 
little  enough  kindness  to  remember  (by  all  accounts)  even 
while  she  had  him,  the  notion  of  his  death  intervening,  his 


PERSECUTIONS.  79 

heartless  rapacity  laid  bare  to  her :  that  all  should  not  do, 
and  she  must  still  keep  the  best  place  in  her  heart  for  this 
accursed  fellow,  is  a  thing  to  make  a  plain  man  rage.  I 
had  never  much  natural  sympathy  for  the  passion  of  love  ; 
but  this  unreason  in  my  patron's  wife  disgusted  me  outright 
with  the  whole  matter.  I  remember  checking  a  maid,  be- 
cause she  sang  some  bairnly  kickshaw  while  my  mind  was 
thus  engaged  ;  and  my  asperity  brought  about  my  ears  the 
enmity  of  all  the  petticoats  about  the  house ;  of  which  I 
recked  very  little,  but  it  amused  Mr.  Henry,  who  rallied  me 
much  upon  our  joint  unpopularity.  It  is  strange  enough 
(for  my  own  mother  was  certainly  one  of  the  salt  of  the 
earth  and  my  Aunt  Dickson,  who  paid  my  fees  at  the  Uni- 
versity, a  very  notable  woman)  but  I  have  never  had  much 
toleration  for  the  female  sex,  possibly  not  much  understand- 
ing ;  and  being  far  from  a  bold  man,  I  have  ever  shunned 
their  company.  Not  only  do  I  see  no  cause  to  regret  this 
diffidence  in  myself,  but  have  invariably  remarked  the  most 
unhappy  consequences  follow  those  who  were  less  wise. 
So  much  I  thought  proper  to  set  down,  lest  I  show  myself 
unjust  to  Mrs.  Henry.  And  besides  the  remark  arose  nat- 
urally, on  a  reperusal  of  the  letter  which  was  the  next  step 
in  these  affairs,  and  reached  me  to  my  sincere  astonishment 
by  a  private  hand,  some  week  or  so  after  the  departure  of 
the  last  messenger. 

Letter  from  Colonel  Burke  {afterward  Chevalier^  to  Mr.  Mackellar. 

Troyes  in  Champagne,  ) 
July  12.  1756.  S 

My  dear  Sir:  You  will  doubtless  be  surprised  to  receive  a  commu- 
nication from  one  so  little  known  to  you  ;  but  on  the  occas'on  I  had  ihe 
good  fortune  to  rencounter  you  at  Durri>deer,  I  remarked  you  foi  a 
young  man  of  a  solid  gravity  of  character  :  a  qualification  which  I  pro- 
fess I  admire  and  revere  next  to  natural  genius  or  the  bold  chivalrous 
spirit  of  the  soldier.  I  was  besides  interested  in  the  noble  family  which 
you  have  the  honor  to  serve,  or  (to  speak  more  by  the  book)  to  be  the 
humble  and  respected  friend  of  ;  and  a  conversation  I  had  the  pleasure 


8o  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

to  have  with  you  very  early  in  the  morning  has  remained  much  upon  my 
mind. 

Being  the  other  day  in  Paris,  on  a  visit  from  this  famous  city  where  I 
am  in  garrison,  I  took  occasion  to  inquire  your  name  (which  I  profess  I 
had  forgot)  at  my  friend,  the  Master  of  B. ;  and  a  fair  opportunity  occur- 
ring, I  write  to  inform  you  of  what's  new. 

The  Master  of  B.  (when  we  had  last  some  talk  of  him  together)  was  in 
receipt,  as  I  thmk  I  then  told  you,  of  a  highly  advantageous  pension  on 
the  Scots  Fund.  He  next  received  a  company,  and  was  soon  after 
advanced  to  a  regiment  of  his  own.  My  dear  sir,  I  do  not  offer  to 
explain  this  circumstance  ;  any  more  than  why  I  myself,  who  have  rid  at 
the  right  hand  of  princes,  should  be  fubbed  off  with  a  pair  of  colors  and 
sent  to  rot  in  a  hole  at  the  bottom  of  the  province.  Accustomed  as  I 
am  to  courts,  I  cannot  but  feel  it  is  no  atmosphere  for  a  plain  soldier  ; 
and  I  could  never  hope  to  advance  by  similar  means,  even  could  I  stoop 
to  the  endeavor.  But  our  friend  has  a  particular  aptitude  to  succeed  by 
the  means  of  ladies  ;  and  if  all  be  true  that  I  have  heard,  he  enjoyed  a 
remarkable  protection.  It  is  like  this  turned  against  him  ;  for  when  I 
had  the  honor  to  shake  him  by  the  hand,  he  was  but  newly  released  from 
the  Bastille  where  he  had  been  cast  on  a  sealed  letter  ;  and  though  now 
released,  has  both  lost  his  regiment  and  his  pension.  My  dear  sir,  the 
loyalty  of  a  plain  Irishman  will  ultimately  succeed  in  the  place  of  craft ; 
as  I  am  sure  a  gentleman  of  your  probity  will  agree. 

Now,  sir,  the  Master  is  a  man  whose  genius  I  admire  beyond  expres- 
sion, and  besides  he  is  my  friend :  but  I  thought  a  little  word  of  this 
revolution  in  his  fortunes  would  not  come  amiss,  for  in  my  opinion,  the 
man's  desperate.  He  spoke  when  I  saw  him  of  a  trip  to  India  (whither 
I  am  myself  in  some  hope  of  accompanying  my  illustrious  countryman, 
Mr.  Lally);  but  for  this  he  would  require  (as  I  understood)  more  money 
than  was  readily  at  his  command.  You  may  have  heard  a  military  prov- 
erb ;  that  it  is  a  good  thing  to  make  a  bridge  of  gold  to  a  flying  enemy  ; 
I  trust  you  will  take  my  meaning  ;  and  I  subscribe  myself,  with  proper 
respects  to  my  Lord  Durrisdeer,  to  his  son,  and  to  the  beauteous  Mrs. 
Durie, 

My  dear  sir, 

Your  obedient  humble  servant, 

Francis  Burke. 

This  missive  I  carried  at  once  to  Mr.  Henry  ;  and  I  think 
there  was  but  the  one  thought  between  the  two  of  us :  that 
it  had  come  a  week  too  late.    I  made  haste  to  send  an  an- 


PERSECUTIONS.  8i 

swer  to  Colonel  Burke,  in  which  I  begged  him,  if  he  should 
see  the  Master,  to  assure  him  his  next  messenger  would  be 
attended  to.  But  with  all  my  haste  I  was  not  in  time  to 
avert  what  was  impending  ;  the  arrow  had  been  drawn,  it 
must  now  fly.  I  could  almost  doubt  the  power  of  provi- 
dence (and  certainly  his  will)  to  stay  the  issue  of  events  ; 
and  it  is  a  strange  thought,  how  many  of  us  had  been  stor- 
ing up  the  elements  of  this  catastrophe,  for  how  long  a  time, 
and  with  how  blind  an  ignorance  of  what  we  did. 

From  the  coming  of  the  Colonel's  letter,  I  had  a  spy- 
glass in  my  room,  began  to  drop  questions  to  the  tenant 
folk,  and  as  there  was  no  great  secrecy  observed  and  the 
freetrade  (in  our  part)  went  by  force  as  much  as  stealth 
I  had  soon  got  together  a  knowledge  of  the  signals  in  use, 
and  knew  pretty  well  to  an  hour  when  any  messenger  might 
be  expected.  I  say  I  questioned  the  tenants  ;  for  with  the 
traders  themselves,  desperate  blades  that  went  habitually 
armed,  I  could  never  bring  myself  to  meddle  willingly. 
Indeed,  by  what  proved  in  the  sequel  an  unhappy  chance, 
I  was  an  object  of  scorn  to  some  of  these  braggadocios  ; 
who  had  not  only  gratified  me  with  a  nickname,  but  catch- 
ing me  one  night  upon  a  by-path  and  being  all  (as  they 
would  have  said)  somewhat  merry,  had  caused  me  to  dance 
for  their  diversion.  The  method  employed  was  that  of 
cruelly  chipping  at  my  toes  with  naked  cutlasses,  shouting 
at  the  same  time  "  Square-Toes";  and  though  they  did  me 
no  bodily  mischief,  I  was  none  the  less  deplorably  affected 
and  was  indeed  for  several  days  confined  to  my  bed  :  a 
scandal  on  the  state  of  Scotland  on  which  no  comment  is 
required. 

It  happened  on  the  afternoon  of  November  7,  in  this 
same  unfortunate  year,  that  I  espied,  during  my  walk,  the 
smoke  of  a  beacon  fire  upon  the  Muckleross.  It  was  draw- 
ing near  time  for  my  return ;  but  the  uneasiness  upon  my 


82  THE  MASTER  OP  BALLANTRAE. 

spirits  was  that  day  so  great,  that  I  must  burst  through  the 
thickets  to  the  edge  of  what  they  called  the  Craig  Head. 
The  sun  was  already  down,  but  there  was  still  a  broad  light 
in  the  west,  which  showed  me  some  of  the  smugglers  tread- 
ing out  their  signal  fire  upon  the  Ross,  and  in  the  bay  the 
lugger  lying  with  her  sails  brailed  up.  She  was  plainly  but 
new  come  to  anchor,  and  yet  the  skiff  was  already  lowered 
and  pulling  for  the  landing-place  at  the  end  of  the  long 
shrubbery.  And  this  I  knew  could  signify  but  one  thing, 
the  coining  of  a  messenger  for  Durrisdeer. 

I  laid  aside  the  remainder  of  my  terrors,  clambered  down 
the  brae — a  place  I  had  never  ventured  through  before,  and 
was  hid  among  the  shore-side  thickets  in  time  to  see  the 
boat  touch.  Captain  Crail  himself  was  steering,  a  thing  not 
usual ;  by  his  side  there  sat  a  passenger  ;  and  the  men  gave 
way  with  difficulty,  being  hampered  with  near  upon  half  a 
dozen  portmanteaus,  great  and  small.  But  the  business  of 
landing  was  briskly  carried  through  ;  and  presently  the 
baggage  was  all  tumbled  on  shore,  the  boat  on  its  return 
voyage  to  the  lugger,  and  the  passenger  standing  alone 
upon  the  point  of  rock,  a  tall,  slender  figure  of  a  gentleman, 
habited  in  black,  with  a  sword  by  his  side  and  a  walking- 
cane  upon  his  wrist.  As  he  so  stood,  he  waved  the  cane  to 
Captain  Crail  by  way  of  salutation,  with  something  both  of 
grace  and  mockery  that  wrote  the  gesture  "deeply  on  my 
mind. 

No  sooner  was  the  boat  away  with  my  sworn  enemies, 
than  I  took  a  sort  of  half  courage,  came  forth  to  the  mar- 
gin of  the  thicket,  and  there  halted  again,  my  mind  being 
greatly  pulled  about  between  natural  diffidence  and  a  dark 
foreboding  of  the  truth.  Indeed  I  might  have  stood  there 
swithering  all  night,  had  not  the  stranger  turned,  spied  me 
through  the  mists,  which  were  beginning  to  fall,  and  waved 
and  cried  on  me  to  draw  near.  I  did  so  with  a  heart  like 
lead. 


PERSECUTIONS.  S3 

"  Here,  my  good  man,"  said  he,  in  the  English  accent, 
"  here  are  some  things  for  Durrisdeer." 

I  was  now  near  enough  to  see  him,  a  very  handsome 
figure  and  countenance,  swarthy,  lean,  long,  with  a  quick, 
alert,  black  look,  as  of  one  who  was  a  fighter  and  accus- 
tomed to  command  ;  upon  one  cheek,  he  had  a  mole,  not 
unbecoming  ;  a  large  diamond  sparkled  on  his  hand  ;  his 
clothes,  although  of  the  one  hue,  were  of  a  French  and  fop- 
pish design  ;  his  ruffles,  which  he  wore  longer  than  com- 
mon, of  exquisite  lace  ;  and  I  wondered  the  more  to  see 
him  in  such  a  guise,  when  he  was  but  newly  landed  from  a 
dirty,  smuggling  lugger.  At  the  same  time,  he  had  a  better 
look  at  me,  toised  me  a  second  time  sharply,  and  then  smiled. 

"I  wager,  my  friend,"  says  he,  "that  I  know  both  your 
name  and  your  nickname.  I  divined  these  very  clothes 
upon  your  hand  of  writing,  Mr.  Mackellar." 

At  these  words,  I  fell  to  shaking. 

"  Oh,"  says  he,  "  you  need  not  be  afraid  of  me.  I  bear  no 
malice  for  your  tedious  letters  ;  and  it  is  my  purpose  to 
employ  you  a  good  deal.  You  may  call  me  Mr.  Bally  ;  it  is 
the  name  I  have  assumed  ;  or  rather  (since  I  am  address- 
ing so  great  a  precision)  it  is  so  I  have  curtailed  my  own. 
Come  now,  pick  up  that  and  that " — indicating  two  of  the 
portmanteaus.  "  That  will  be  as  much  as  you  are  fit  to 
bear,  and  the  rest  can  very  well  wait.  Come,  lose  no  more 
time,  if  you  please." 

His  tone  was  so  cutting  that  I  managed  to  do  as  he  bid 
by  a  sort  of  instinct,  my  mind  being  all  the  time  quite  lost. 
No  sooner  had  I  picked  up  the  portmanteaus,  than  he 
turned  his  back  and  marched  off  through  the  long  shrub- 
bery ;  where  it  began  already  to  be  dusk,  for  the  wood  is 
thick  and  evergreen.  I  followed  behind,  loaded  almost  to 
the  dust,  though  I  profess  I  was  not  conscious  of  the  bur- 
then ;  being  swallowed  up  in  the  monstrosity  of  this  return 
and  my  mind  flying  like  a  weaver's  shuttle. 


S4  THE  MASTER  OF  JSALLANTXAM. 

On  a  sudden  I  set  the  portmanteaus  to  the  ground  and 
halted.     He  turned  and  looked  back  at  me. 

"  Well  ? "  said  he. 

"  You  are  the  Master  of  Ballantrae  ?  " 

"  You  will  do  me  the  justice  to  observe,"  says  he,  "that  I 
have  made  no  secret  with  the  astute  Mackellar." 

"And  in  the  name  of  God,"  cries  I,  "what  brings  you 
here  ?    Go  back,  while  it  is  yet  time." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  he.  "  Your  master  has  chosen  this 
way,  and  not  I ;  but  since  he  has  made  the  choice,  he  (and 
you  also)  must  abide  by  the  result.  And  now  pick  up 
these  things  of  mine,  which  you  have  set  down  in  a  very 
boggy  place,  and  attend  to  that  which  I  have  made  your 
business." 

But  I  had  no  thought  now  of  obedience  ;  I  came  straight 
up  to  him.  "  If  nothing  will  move  you  to  go  back,"  said 
I  ;  "  though  sure,  under  all  the  circumstances,  any  Chris- 
tian or  even  any  gentleman  would  scruple  to  go  for- 
ward. .  ." 

**  These  are  gratifying  expressions,"  he  threw  in. 

"If  nothing  will  move  you  to  go  back,"  I  continued, 
**  there  are  still  some  decencies  to  be  observed.  Wait  here 
with  your  baggage,  and  I  will  go  forward  and  prepare  your 
family.  Your  father  is  an  old  man  ;  and  ..."  I  stumbled 
.  .  .  "there  are  decencies  to  be  observed." 

"Truly,"  said  he,  "this  Mackellar  improves  upon  ac- 
quaintance. But  look  you  here,  my  man,  and  understand 
it  once  for  all — you  waste  your  breath  upon  me,  and  I  go 
my  own  way  with  inevitable  motion." 

"  Ah  ! "  says  I.     "  Is  that  so?    We  shall  see  then  !  " 

And  I  turned  and  took  to  my  heels  for  Durrisdeer.  He 
clutched  at  me  and  cried  out  angrily,  and  then  I  believe  I 
heard  him  laugh,  and  then  I  am  certain  he  pursued  me  for 
a  step  or  two,  and  (I  suppose)  desisted.  One  thing  at  least 
is  sure,  thai  I  came  but  a  few  minutes  later  to  the  door  of 


PERSECUTIONS.  85 

the  great  house,  nearly  strangled  for  the  lack  of  breath  but 
quite  alone.  Straight  up  the  stair  I  ran,  and  burst  into 
the  hall,  and  stopped  before  the  family  without  the  power 
of  speech  ;  but  I  must  have  carried  my  story  in  my  looks, 
for  they  rose  out  of  their  places  and  stared  on  me  like 
changelings. 

"  He  has  come,"  I  panted  out  at  last. 

"He?"  said  Mr.  Henry. 

"  Himself,"  said  I. 

"My  son?"  cried  my  lord.  "Imprudent,  imprudent 
boy  !     Oh,  could  he  not  stay  where  he  was  safe  ?  " 

Never  a  word  said  Mrs.  Henry  ;  nor  did  I  look  at  her,  I 
scarce  knew  why. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Henry,  with  a  very  deep  breath,  "  and 
where  is  he  ? " 

"  I  left  him  in  the  long  shrubbery,"  said  I. 

"  Take  me  to  him,"  said  he. 

So  we  went  out  together,  he  and  I,  without  another  word 
from  any  one  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  graveled  plot, 
encountered  the  Master  strolling  up,  whistling  as  he  came 
and  beating  the  air  with  his  cane.  There  was  still  light 
enough  overhead  to  recognize  though  not  to  read  a  coun- 
tenance. 

"  Ah,  Jacob ! "  says  the  Master.  "  So  here  is  Esau 
back." 

"  James,"  says  Mr.  Henry,  "  for  God's  sake,  call  me  by 
my  name.  I  will  not  pretend  that  I  am  glad  to  see  you ; 
but  I  would  fain  make  you  as  welcome  as  lean  in  the  house 
of  our  fathers." 

"  Or  in  my  house  !  ox  yours  ?  "  says  the  Master.  "Which 
was  you  about  to  say  ?  But  this  is  an  old  sore,  and  we  need 
not  rub  it.  If  you  would  not  share  with  me  in  Paris,  I  hope 
you  will  yet  scarce  deny  your  elder  brother  a  corner  of  the 
fire  at  Durrisdeer  ?  " 

"  That  is  very  idle  speech,"  replied  Mr.  Henry.     "  And 


S6  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

you  understand  the  power  of  your  position  excellently 
well." 

"Why,  I  believe  I  do,"  said  the  other, with  a  little  laugh. 
And  this,  though  they  had  never  touched  hands,  was  (as 
we  may  say)  the  end  of  the  brothers'  meeting ;  for  at  this, 
the  Master  turned  to  me  and  bade  me  fetch  his  baggage. 

I,  on  my  side,  turned  to  Mr.  Henry  for  a  confirmation  ; 
perhaps  with  some  defiance. 

"  As  long  as  the  Master  is  here,  Mr.  Mackellar,  you  will 
very  much  oblige  me  by  regarding  his  wishes  as  you  would 
my  own,"  says  Mr.  Henry.  "  We  are  constantly  troubling 
you  :  will  you  be  so  good  as  send  one  of  the  servants  ?  " — 
with  an  accent  on  the  word. 

If  this  speech  were  anything  at  all,  it  was  surely  a  well- 
deserved  reproof  upon  the  stranger  ;  and  yet,  so  devilish 
was  his  impudence,  he  twisted  it  the  other  way. 

"  And  shall  we  be  common  enough  to  say  *  Sneck  up*  ? " 
inquires  he  softly,  looking  upon  me  sideways. 

Had  a  kingdom  depended  on  the  act,  I  could  not  have 
trusted  myself  in  words  ;  even  to  call  a  servant  was  beyond 
me  ;  I  had  rather  serve  the  man  myself  than  speak  ;  and  I 
turned  away  in  silence  and  went  into  the  long  shrubbery, 
with  a  heart  full  of  anger  and  despair.  It  was  dark  under 
the  trees,  and  I  walked  before  me  and  forgot  what  business 
I  was  come  upon,  till  I  near  broke  my  shin  on  the  port- 
manteaus. Then  it  was  that  I  remarked  a  strange  par- 
ticular ;  for  whereas  I  had  before  carried  both  and  scarce 
observed  it,  it  was  now  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  manage 
one.  And  this,  as  it  forced  me  to  make  two  journeys,  kept 
me  the  longer  from  the  hall. 

When  I  got  there  the  business  of  welcome  was  over  long 
ago  ;  the  company  was  already  at  supper  ;  and  by  an  over- 
sight that  cut  me  to  the  quick,  my  place  had  been  forgotten. 
I  had  seen  one  side  of  the  Master's  return  ;  now  I  was  to 
sec  the  other.    It  was  he  who  first  remarked  my  coming  >n 


PERSECUTTO^rS.  87 

and  standing  back  (as  I  did)  in  some  annoyance.  He 
jumped  from  his  seat. 

"And  if  I  have  not  got  the  good  Mackellar's  place  !" 
cries  he.  "  John,  lay  another  for  Mr.  Bally  ;  I  protest 
he  will  disturb  no  one,  and  your  table  is  big  enough 
for  all." 

I  could  scarce  credit  my  ears  ;  nor  yet  my  senses  when 
he  took  me  by  the  shoulders  and  thrust  me  laughing  into 
my  own  place  ;  such  an  affectionate  playfulness  was  in  his 
voice.  And  while  John  laid  the  fresh  place  for  him  (a  thing 
on  which  he  still  insisted)  he  went  and  leaned  on  his  father's 
chair  and  looked  down  upon  him,  and  the  old  man  turned 
about  and  looked  upwards  on  his  son,  with  such  a  pleasant 
mutual  tenderness,  that  I  could  have  carried  my  hand  to 
my  head  in  mere  amazement. 

Yet  all  was  of  a  piece.  Never  a  harsh  word  fell  from 
him,  never  a  sneer  showed  upon  his  lip.  He  had  laid  aside 
even  his  cutting  English  accent,  and  spoke  with  the  kindly 
Scots  tongue,  that  sets  a  value  on  affectionate  words  ;  and 
though  his  manners  had  a  graceful  elegance  mighty  foreign 
to  our  ways  in  Durrisdeer,  it  was  still  a  homely  courtliness, 
that  did  not  shame  but  flattered  us.  All  that  he  did  through- 
out the  meal,  indeed,  drinking  wine  with  me  with  a  notable 
respect,  turning  about  for  a  pleasant  word  with  John,  fond- 
ling his  father's  hand,  breaking  into  little  merry  tales  of  his 
adventures,  calling  up  the  past  with  happy  reference — all 
he  did  was  so  becoming,  and  himself  so  handsome,  that  I 
could  scarce  wonder  if  my  lord  and  Mrs.  Henry  sat  about 
the  board  with  radiant  faces,  or  if  John  waited  behind  with 
dropping  tears. 

As  soon  as  supper  was  over,  Mrs.  Henry  rose  to  with- 
draw. 

"  This  was  never  your  way,  Alison,"  said  he. 

"  It  is  my  way  now,"  she  replied  :  which  was  notoriously 
false,  *•  and  I  will  give  you  a  good- night,-  James,  and  a  wel- 


88  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

come — from  the  dead,"  said  she,  and  her  voice  drooped 
and  trembled. 

Poor  Mr.  Henry,  who  had  made  rather  a  heavy  figure 
through  the  meal,  was  more  concerned  than  ever  :  pleased 
to  see  his  wife  withdraw,  and  yet  half-displeased,  as  he 
thought  upon  the  cause  of  it ;  and  the  next  moment  alto- 
gether dashed  by  the  fervor  of  her  speech. 

On  my  part,  I  thought  I  was  now  one  too  many  ; 
and  was  stealing  after  Mrs.  Henry,  when  the  Master 
saw  me. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  says  he,  "  I  take  this  near  on  an 
unfriendliness.  I  cannot  have  you  go  :  this  is  to  make  a 
stranger  of  the  prodigal  son — and  let  me  remind  you  where 
— in  his  own  father's  house  !  Come,  sit  ye  down,  and  drink 
another  glass  with  Mr.  Bally." 

"Ay,  ay,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  says  my  lord,  "we  must  not 
make  a  stranger  either  of  him  or  you.  I  have  been  telling 
my  son,"  he  added,  his  voice  brightening  as  usual  on  the 
word,  "  how  much  we  valued  all  your  friendly  service." 

So  I  sat  there  silent  till  my  usual  hour  ;  and  might  have 
been  almost  deceived  in  the  man's  nature,  but  for  one  pas- 
sage in  which  his  perfidy  appeared  too  plain.  Here  was 
the  passage  ;  of  which,  after  what  he  knows  of  the  brothers' 
meeting,  the  reader  shall  consider  for  himself.  Mr.  Henry 
sitting  somewhat  dully,  in  spite  of  his  best  endeavors  to 
carry  things  before  my  lord,  up  jumps  the  Master,  passes 
about  the  board,  and  claps  his  brother  on -the  shoulder. 

"  Come,  come,  Hairry  lad,''  says  he,  with  a  broad  accent 
such  as  they  must  have  used  together  when  they  were  boys, 
"  you  must  not  be  downcast  because  your  brother  has  come 
home.  All's  yours,  that's  sure  enough,  and  little  I  grudge 
it  you.  Neither  must  you  grudge  me  my  place  beside  my 
father's  fire." 

"  And  that  is  too  true,  Henry,"  says  my  old  lord  with  a 
little  frown,  a  thing  rare  with  him.     "  You  have  been  the 


PERSECUTIONS.  89 

elder  brother  of  the  parable  in  the  good  sense  ;  you  must 
be  careful  of  the  other." 

"  I  am  easily  put  in  the  wrong,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 

"  Who  puts  you  in  the  wrong  ?  "  cried  my  lord,  I  thought 
very  tartly  for  so  mild  a  man.  "  You  have  earned  my  grat- 
itude and  your  brother's  many  thousand  times  ;  you  may 
count  on  its  endurance  ;  and  let  that  suffice." 

"  Ay,  Harry,  that  you  may,"  said  the  Master  ;  and  I 
thought  Mr.  Henry  looked  at  him  with  a  kind  of  wildness 
in  his  eye. 

On  all  the  miserable  business  that  now  followed,  I  have 
four  questions  that  I  asked  myself  often  at  the  time  and 
ask  myself  still.  Was  the  man  moved  by  a  particular  senti- 
ment against  Mr.  Henry  ?  or  by  what  he  thought  to  be  his 
interest  ?  or  by  a  mere  delight  in  cruelty  such  as  cats  dis- 
play and  theologians  tell  us  of  the  devil  ?  or  by  what  he 
would  have  called  love  ?  My  common  opinion  halts  among 
the  three  first  ;  but  perhaps  there  lay  at  the  spring  of  his 
behavior  an  element  of  all.  As  thus  :  Animosity  to  Mr. 
Henry  would  explain  his  hateful  usage  of  him  when  they 
were  alone  ;  the  interests  he  came  to  serve  would  explain 
his  very  different  attitude  before  my  lord  ;  that  and  some 
spice  of  a  design  of  gallantry,  his  care  to  stand  well  with 
Mrs.  Henry  ;  and  the  pleasure  of  malice  for  itself,  the 
pains  he  was  continually  at  to  mingle  and  oppose  these 
lines  of  conduct. 

Partly  because  I  was  a  very  open  friend  to  my  patron, 
partly  because  in  my  letters  to  Paris  1  had  often  given  my- 
self some  freedom  of  remonstrance,  I  was  included  in  his 
diabolical  amusement.  When  I  was  alone  with  him,  he 
pursued  me  with  sneers  ;  before  the  family,  he  used  me  with 
the  extreme  of  friendly  condescension.  This  was  not  only 
painful  in  itself  ;  not  only  did  it  put  me  continually  in  the 
wrong  ;  but  there  was  in  it  an  element  of  insult  indescriba- 


90  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

ble.  That  he  should  thus  leave  me  out  in  his  dissimulation, 
as  though  even  my  testimony  were  too  despicable  to  be  con- 
sidered, galled  me  to  the  blood.  But  what  it  was  to  me  is 
not  worth  notice.  I  make  but  memorandum  of  it  here  ; 
and  chiefly  for  this  reason,  that  it  had  one  good  result,  and 
gave  me  the  quicker  sense  of  Mr.  Henry's  martyrdom. 

It  was  on  him  the  burthen  fell.  How  was  he  to  respond 
to  the  public  advances  of  one  who  never  lost  a  chance  of 
gibing  him  in  private  ?  How  was  he  to  smile  back  on  the 
deceiver  and  the  insulter  ?  He  was  condemned  to  seem 
ungracious.  He  was  condemned  to  silence.  Had  he  been 
less  proud,  had  he  spoken,  who  would  have  credited  the 
truth  ?  The  acted  calumny  had  done  its  work  ;  my  lord 
and  Mrs.  Henry  were  the  daily  witnesses  of  what  went  on  ; 
they  could  have  sworn  in  court  that  the  Master  was  a  model 
of  long-suffering  good-nature  and  Mr.  Henry  a  pattern  of 
jealousy  and  thanklessness.  And  ugly  enough  as  these 
must  have  appeared  in  any  one,  they  seemed  tenfold  uglier 
in  Mr.  Henry  ;  for  who  could  forget  that  the  Master  lay  in 
peril  of  his  life,  and  that  he  had  already  lost  his  mistress, 
his  title,  and  his  fortune  ? 

"  Henry,  will  you  ride  with  me  ?  "  asks  the  Master  one 
day. 

And  Mr.  Henry,  who  had  been  goaded  by  the  man  all 
morning,  raps  out :  *'  I  will  not." 

"  I  sometimes  wish  you  would  be  kinder,. Henry,"  says 
the  other  wistfully. 

I  give  this  for  a  specimen  ;  but  such  scenes  befell  con- 
tinually. Small  wonder  if  Mr.  Henry  was  blamed  ;  small 
wonder  if  I  fretted  myself  into  something  near  upon  a  bil- 
ious fever  ;  nay,  and  at  the  mere  recollection  feel  a  bitter- 
ness in  my  blood. 

Sure,  never  in  this  world  was  a  more  diabolical  contriv- 
ance :  so  perfidious,  so  simple,  so  impossible  to  combat. 
And  yet  I  think  again,  and  I  think  always,  Mrs.  Henry 


PERSECUTIO^fs.  91 

might  have  read  between  the  lines  ;  she  might  have  had 
more  knowledge  of  her  husband's  nature  ;  after  all  these 
years  of  marriage,  she  might  have  commanded  or  captured 
his  confidence.  And  my  old  lord  too,  that  very  watchful 
gentleman,  where  was  all  his  observation  ?  But  for  one 
thing,  the  deceit  was  practiced  by  a  master  hand,  and  might 
have  gulled  an  angel.  For  another  (in  the  case  of  Mrs. 
Henry),  I  have  observed  there  are  no  persons  so  far  away 
as  those  who  are  both  married  and  estranged,  so  that  they 
seem  out  of  earshot  or  to  have  no  common  tongue.  For  a 
third  (in  the  case  of  both  of  these  spectators),  they  were 
blinded  by  old,  ingrained  predilection.  And  for  a  fourth, 
the  risk  the  Master  was  supposed  to  stand  in  (supposed,  I 
say — you  will  soon  hear  why)  made  it  seem  the  more  ungen- 
erous to  criticise  ;  and  keeping  them  in  a  perpetual  tender 
solicitude  about  his  life,  blinded  them  the  more  effectually 
to  his  faults. 

It  was  during  this  time  that  I  perceived  most  clearly  the 
effect  of  manner,  and  was  led  to  lament  most  deeply  the 
plainness  of  my  own.  Mr.  Henry  had  the  essence  of  a 
gentleman  ;  when  he  was  moved,  when  there  was  any  call 
of  circumstance,  he  could  play  his  part  with  dignity  and 
spirit  ;  but  in  the  day's  commerce  (it  is  idle  to  deny  it)  he 
fell  short  of  the  ornamental.  The  Master  (on  the  other 
hand)  had  never  a  movement  but  it  commended  him.  So 
it  befell,  that  when  the  one  appeared  gracious  and  the  other 
ungracious,  every  trick  of  their  bodies  seemed  to  call  out 
confirmation.  Nor  that  alone  :  but  the  more  deeply  Mr. 
Henry  floundered  in  his  brother's  toils,  the  more  clownish 
he  grew;  and  the  more  the  Master  enjoyed  his  spiteful 
entertainment,  the  more  engagingly,  the  more  smilingly, 
he  went  !  So  that  the  plot,  by  its  own  scope  and  progress, 
furthered  and  confirmed  itself. 

It  was  one  0/  the  man's  arts  to  use  the  periJ  Id  which  (as 
1  isay)'  He  was  supposed  to  scana.     He  spx3fKc  of  ft  to  tnos* 


92  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

who  loved  him  with  a  gentle  pleasantry,  which  made  it  the 
more  touching.  To  Mr.  Henry,  he  used  it  as  a  cruel  weapon 
of  offense.  I  remember  his  laying  his  finger  on  the  clean 
lozenge  of  the  painted  window,  one  day  when  we  three 
were  alone  together  in  the  hall.  "  Here  went  your  lucky 
guinea,  Jacob,"  said  he.  And  when  Mr.  Henry  only  looked 
upon  him  darkly,  "  Oh,"  he  added,  "  you  need  not  look  such 
impotent  malice,  my  good  fly.  You  can  be  rid  of  your 
spider  when  you  please.  How  long,  O  Lord  ?  When  are 
you'to  be  wrought  to  the  point  of  a  denunciation,  scrupu- 
lous brother  ?  It  is  one  of  my  interests  in  this  dreary  hole. 
I  ever  loved  experiment."  Still  Mr.  Henry  only  stared  upon 
him  with  a  glooming  brow,  and  a  changed  color  ;  and  at 
last  the  Master  broke  out  in  a  laugh  and  clapped  him  on 
the  shoulder,  calling  him  a  sulky  dog.  At  this  my  patron 
leaped  back  with  a  gesture  I  thought  very  dangerous  ;  and 
I  must  suppose  the  Master  thought  so  too  ;  for  he  looked 
the  least  in  the  world  discountenanced,  and  I  do  not  re- 
member him  again  to  have  laid  hands  on  Mr.  Henry. 

But  though  he  had  his  peril  always  on  his  lips  in  the  one 
way  or  the  other,  I  thought  his  conduct  strangely  incautious 
and  began  to  fancy  the  government  (who  had  set  a  price 
upon  his  head)  was  gone  sound  asleep.  I  will  not  deny  I 
was  tempted  with  the  wish  to  denounce  him  ;  but  two 
thoughts  withheld  me  :  one,  that  if  he  were  thus  to  end  his 
life  upon  an  honorable  scaffold,  the  man  would  be  can- 
onized for  good  in  the  minds  of  his  father  and  my  patron's 
wife  :  the  other,  that  if  I  was  anyway  mingled  in  the  matter, 
Mr.  Henry  himself  would  scarce  escape  some  glancings  of 
suspicion.  And  in  the  mean  while  our  enemy  went  in  and 
out  more  than  I  could  have  thought  possible,  the  fact  that 
he  was  home  again  was  buzzed  about  all  the  countryside  ; 
and  yet  he  was  never  stirred.  Of  all  these  so-many  and  so-. 
different  persons  who  were  acquainted  with  his  presence, 
none  had  the  least  greed  (as  I  used  to  say  in  my  annoyance) 


PERSECUTIONS.  93 

or  the  least  loyalty ;  and  the  man  rode  here  and  there — 
fully  more  welcome,  considering  the  lees  of  old  unpopu- 
larity, than  Mr.  Henry — and  considering  the  freetraders, 
far  safer  than  myself. 

Not  but  what  he  had  a  trouble  of  his  own  ;  and  this,  as 
it  brought  about  the  gravest  consequences,  I  must  now  re- 
late. The  reader  will  scarce  have  forgotten  Jessie  Broun  ; 
her  way  of  life  was  much  among  the  smuggling  party  ; 
Captain  Crail  himself  was  of  her  intimates  ;  and  she  had  early 
word  of  Mr.  Bally's  presence  at  the  house.  In  my  opinion 
she  had  long  ceased  to  care  two  straws  for  the  Master's 
person  ;  but  it  was  become  her  habit  to  connect  herself  con- 
tinually with  the  Master's  name  ;  that  was  the  ground  of 
all  her  play-acting ;  and  so,  now  when  he  was  back,  she 
thought  she  owed  it  to  herself  to  grow  a  haunter  of  the 
neighborhood  of  Durrisdeer.  The  Master  could  scarce  go 
abroad  but  she  was  there  in  wait  for  him  ;  a  scandalous 
figure  of  a  woman,  not  often  sober;  hailing  him  wildly  as 
"  her  bonny  laddie,"  quoting  pedlar's  poetry,  and  as  I  re- 
ceive the  story,  even  seeking  to  weep  upon  his  neck.  I  own 
I  rubbed  my  hands  over  this  persecution  ;  but  the  Master, 
who  laid  so  much  upon  others,  was  himself  the  least  patient 
of  men.  There  were  strange  scenes  enacted  in  the  policies. 
Some  say  he  took  his  cane  to  her,  and  Jessie  fell  back  upon 
her  former  weapon,  stones.  It  is  certain  at  least  that  he 
made  a  motion  to  Captain  Crail  to  have  the  woman 
trepanned,  and  that  the  Captain  refused  the  proposition 
with  uncommon  vehemence.  And  the  end  of  the  matter  was 
victory  for  Jessie.  Money  was  got  together  ;  an  interview 
took  place  in  which  my  proud  gentleman  must  consent  to 
be  kissed  and  wept  upon,  and  the  woman  was  set  up  in  a 
public  of  her  own,  somewhere  on  Solway  side  (but  I  forget 
where)  and  by  the  only  news  I  ever  had  of  it,  extremely  ill- 
frequented. 

This  is  to  look  forward.    After  Jessie  had  been  but  a 


94  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

little  while  upon  his  heels,  the  Master  comes  to  me  one  day 
in  the  steward's  office,  and  with  more  civility  than  usual, 
"  Mackellar,"  says  he,  "  there  is  a  damned  crazy  wench 
comes  about  here.  I  cannot  well  move  in  the  matter  my- 
self, which  brings  me  to  you.  Be  so  good  as  see  to  it :  the 
men  must  have  a  strict  injunction  to  drive  the  wench 
away." 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  trembling  a  little, "  you  can  do  your  own 
dirty  errands  for  yourself." 

He  said  not  a  word  to  that,  and  left  the  room. 

Presently  came  Mr.  Henry.  "  Here  is  news  !  "  cried  he. 
"It  seems  all  is  not  enough,  and  you  must  add  to  my 
wretchedness.     It  seems  you,have  insulted  Mr.  Bally." 

"  Under  your  kind  favor,  Mr.  Henry,"  said  I,  "it  was  he 
that  insulted  me,  and  as  I  think  grossly.  But  I  may  have 
been  careless  of  your  position  when  I  spoke  ;  and  if  you 
think  so  when  you  know  all,  my  dear  patron,  you  have  but 
to  say  the  word.  For  you  I  would  obey  in  any  point  what- 
ever, even  to  sin,  God  pardon  me  !  "  And  thereupon  I  told 
him  what  had  passed. 

Mr.  Henry  smiled  to  himself ;  a  grimmer  smile  I  never 
witnessed.  "  You  did  exactly  well,"  said  he.  "  He  shall 
drink  his  Jessie  Broun  to  the  dregs."  And  then,  spying  the 
Master  outside,  he  opened  the  window,  and  crying  to  him 
by  the  name  of  Mr.  Bally,  asked  him  to  step  up  and  have  a 
word. 

"  James,"  said  he,  when  our  persecutor  had  come  in  and 
closed  the  door  behind  him,  looking  at  me  with  a  smile  as 
if  he  thought  I  was  to  be  humbled,  "  you  brought  me  a 
complaint  against  Mr.  Mackellar  into  which  I  have  inquired. 
I  need  not  tell  you  I  would  always  take  his  word  against 
yours  ;  for  we  are  alone,  and  I  am  going  to  use  something 
of  your  own  freedom.  Mr.  Mackellar  is  a  gentleman  I 
value  ;  and  you  must  contrive,  so  long  as  you  are  under 
this  roof,  to  bring  yourself  into  no  more  collisions  with  one 


PERSECUTIONS.  95 

whom  I  will  support  at  any  possible  cost  to  me  or  mine.  As 
for  the  errand  upon  which  you  came  to  him,  you  must  de- 
liver yourself  from  the  consequences  of  your  own  cruelty, 
and  none  of  my  servants  shall  be  at  all  employed  in  such  a 
case." 

"  My  father's  servants,  I  believe,"  says  the  Master. 

"  Go  to  him  with  this  tale,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 

The  Master  grew  very  white.  He  pointed  at  me  with  his 
finger.     "  I  want  that  man  discharged,"  he  said.  /f- 

"  He  shall  not  be,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 

"You  shall  pay  pretty  dear  for  this,"  says  the  Master. 

"I  have  paid  so  dear  already  for  a  wicked  brother,"  said 
Mr.  Henry,  "that  I  am  bankrupt  even  of  fears.  You  have 
no  place  left  where  you  can  strike  me." 

"I  will  show  you  about  that,"  says  the  Master  and  went 
softly  away. 

"What  will  he  do  next,  Mackellar  ? "  cries  Mr.  Henry. 

"  Let  me  go  away,"  said  I.  "  My  dear  patron,  let  me  go 
away  ;  I  am  but  the  beginning  of  fresh  sorrows." 

"  Would  you  leave  me  quite  alone  ?  "  said  he. 

We  were  not  long  in  suspense  as  to  the  nature  of  the  new 
assault.  Up  to  that  hour,  the  Master  had  played  a  very 
close  game  with  Mrs.  Henry  ;  avoiding  pointedly  to  be  alone 
with  her,  which  I  took  at  the  time  for  an  effect  of  decency, 
but  now  think  to  be  a  most  insidious  art  ;  meeting  her,  you 
may  say,  at  mealtime  only  ;  and  behaving,  when  he  did  so, 
like  an  affectionate  brother.  Up  to  that  hour,  you  may 
say  he  had  scarce  directly  interfered  between  Mr.  Henry 
and  his  wife ;  except  in  so  far  as  he  had  maneuvered  the 
one  quite  forth  from  the  good  graces  of  the  other.  Now, 
all  that  was  to  be  changed  ;  but  whether  really  in  revenge, 
or  because  he  was  wearying  of  Durrisdeer  and  looked  about 
for  some  diversion,  who  but  the  devil  shall  decide  ? 

From  that  hour  at  least,  began  the  siege  of  Mrs.  Henry ; 


f6  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

a  thing  so  deftly  carried  on  that  I  scarce  know  if  she  was 
aware  of  it  herself,  and  that  her  husband  must  look  on  in 
silence.  The  first  parallel  was  opened  (as  was  made  to  ap- 
pear) by  accident.  The  talk  fell,  as  it  did  often,  on  the 
exiles  in  France  ;  so  it  glided  to  the  matter  of  their  songs. 
''There  is  one,"  says  the  Master,  "  if  you  are  curious  in 
these  matters,  that  has  always  seemed  to  me  very  moving. 
The  poetry  is  harsh  ;  and  yet,  perhaps  because  of  my  situa- 
tion, it  has  always  found  the  way  to  my  heart.  It  is  sup- 
posed to  be  sung,  I  should  tell  you,  by  an  exile's  sweet- 
heart ;  and  represents,  perhaps,  not  so  much  the  truth  of 
what  she  is  thinking,  as  the  truth  of  what  he  hopes  of  her, 
poor  soul  !  in  these  far  lands."  And  here  the  Master 
sighed.  '*  I  protest  it  is  a  pathetic  sight  when  a  score  of 
rough  Irish,  all  common  sentinels,  get  to  this  song  ;  and 
you  may  see  by  their  falling  tears,  how  it  strikes  home  to 
them.  It  goes  thus,  father,"  says  he,  very  adroitly  taking 
my  lord  for  his  listener,  "  and  if  I  cannot  get  to  the  end  of 
it,  you  must  think  it  is  a  common  case  with  us  exiles." 
And  thereupon  he  struck  up  the  same  air  as  I  had  heard 
the  Colonel  whistle  ;  but  now  to  words,  rustic  indeed,  yet 
most  pathetically  setting  forth  a  poor  girl's  aspirations 
for  an  exiled  lover  :  of  which  one  verse  indeed  (or  some- 
thing like  it)  still  sticks  by  me  : 

Oh,  I  will  dye  my  petticoat  red, 
With  my  dear  boy  I'll  beg  my  bread, 
Though  all  my  friends  should  wish  me  dead. 
For  Willie  among  the  rushes,  O  ! 

He  sang  it  well  even  as  a  song  ;  but  he  did  better  yet  as 
a  performer.  I  have  heard  famous  actors,  when  there  was 
not  a  dry  eye  in  the  Edinburgh  theater ;  a  great  wonder  to 
behold  ;  but  no  more  wonderful  than  how  the  Master  played 
upon  that  little  ballad  and  on  those  who  heard  him,  like  an 
instrument,  and  seemed  now  upon  the  point  of  failing,  and 
now  to  conquer  his  distress,  so  that  words  and  music  seemed 


PERSECUTIONS.  97 

to  pour  out  of  his  own  heart  and  his  own  past,  and  to  be 
aimed  direct  at  Mrs.  Henry.  And  his  art  went  further 
yet  ;  for  all  was  so  delicately  touched,  it  seemed  impossible 
to  suspect  him  of  the  least  design  ;  and  so  far  from  making 
a  parade  of  emotion,  you  would  have  sworn  he  was  striving 
to  be  calm.  When  it  came  to  an  end,  we  all  sat  silent  for 
a  time  ;  he  had  chosen  the  dusk  of  the  afternoon,  so  that 
none  could  see  his  neighbor's  face  ;  but  it  seemed  as  if  we 
held  our  breathing,  only  my  old  lord  cleared  his  throat.  The 
first  to  move  was  the  singer,  who  got  to  his  feet  suddenly 
and  softly,  and  went  and  walked  softly  to  and  fro  in  the 
low  end  of  the  hall,  Mr.  Henry's  customary  place.  We 
were  to  suppose  that  he  there  struggled  down  the  last  of 
his  emotion  ;  for  he  presently  returned  and  launched  into 
a  disquisition  on  the  nature  of  the  Irish  (always  so  much 
miscalled,  and  whom  he  defended)  in  his  natural  voice  :  so 
that,  before  the  lights  were  brought,  we  were  in  the  usual 
course  of  talk.  But  even  then,  methought  Mrs.  Henry's 
face  was  a  shade  pale  ;  and  for  another  thing,  she  with- 
drew almost  at  once. 

The  next  sign  was  a  friendship  this  insidious  devil  struck 
up  with  innocent  Miss  Katherine  ;  so  that  they  were  always 
together,  hand  in  hand,  or  she  climbing  on  his  knee,  like  a 
pair  of  children.  Like  all  his  diabolical  acts,  this  cut  in 
several  ways.  It  was  the  last  stroke  to  Mr.  Henry,  to  see 
his  own  babe  debauched  against  him  ;  it  made  him  harsh 
with  the  poor  innocent,  which  brought  him  still  a  peg  lower 
in  his  wife's  esteem  :  and  (to  conclude)  it  was  a  bond  of 
union  between  the  lady  and  the  Master.  Under  this  in- 
fluence, their  old  reserve  melted  by  daily  stages.  Presently 
there  came  walks  in  the  long  shrubbery,  talks  in  the  belve- 
dere,  and  I  know  not  what  tender  familiarity.  I  am  sure 
Mrs.  Henry  was  like  many  a  good  woman  ;  she  had  a  whole 
conscience,  but  perhaps  by  the  means  of  a  little  winking. 
For  even  to  so  dull  an  observer  as  myself,  it  was  plain  her 


9^  THE  MASTER  OE  BALLANTRAE. 

kindness  was  of  a  more  moving  nature  than  the  sisterly. 
The  tones  of  her  voice  appeared  more  numerous  ;  she  had 
a  light  and  softness  in  her  eye ;  she  was  more  gentle  with 
all  of  us,  even  with  Mr.  Henry,  even  with  myself  ;  me- 
thought  she  breathed  of  some  quiet,  melancholy  happiness. 
To  look  on  at  this,  what  a  torment  it  was  for  Mr.  Henry  ! 
And  yet  it  brought  our  ultimate  deliverance,  as  I  am  soon 
to  tell. 

The  purport  of  the  Master's  stay  was  no  more  noble 
(gild  it  as  they  might)  than  to  wring  money  out.  He  had 
some  design  of  a  fortune  in  the  French  Indies,  as  the 
Chevalier  wrote  me  ;  and  it  was  the  sum  required  for  this 
that  he  came  seeking.  For  the  rest  of  the  family  it  spelled 
ruin  ;  but  my  lord,  in  his  incredible  partiality,  pushed  ever 
for  the  granting.  The  family  was  now  so  narrowed  down 
(indeed  there  were  no  more  of  them  than  just  the  father  and 
the  two  sons),  that  it  was  possible  to  break  the  entail,  and 
alienate  a  piece  of  land.  And  to  this,  at  first  by  hints,  and 
then  by  open  pressure,  Mr.  Henry  was  brought  to  consent. 
He  never  would  have  done  so,  I  am  very  well  assured,  but 
for  the  weight  of  the  distress  under  which  he  labored.  But 
for  his  passionate  eagerness  to  see  his  brother  gone,  he 
would  not  thus  have  broken  with  his  own  sentiment  and 
the  traditions  of  his  house.  And  even  so,  he  sold  them  his 
consent  at  a  dear  rate,  speaking  for  once  openly  and  hold- 
ing the  business  up  in  its  own  shameful  colors. 

"  You  will  observe,"  he  said,  "  this  is  an  injustice  to  my 
son,  if  ever  I  have  one." 

"  But  that  you  are  not  likely  to  have,"  said  my  lord. 

"God  knows!"  says  Mr.  Henry.  "And  considering 
the  cruel  falseness  of  the  position  in  which  I  stand  to  my 
brother,  and  that  you,  my  lord,  are  my  father  and  have  the 
right  to  command  n*e,  I  set  my  hand  to  this  paper.  But 
one  thing  I  will  say  first :  I  have  been  ungenerously  pushed. 


PERSECUTIONS.  99 

and  when  next,  my  lord,  you  are  tempted  to  compare  your 
sons,  I  call  on  you  to  remember  what  I  have  done  and  what 
he  has  done.     Acts  are  the  fair  test." 

My  lord  was  the  most  uneasy  man  I  ever  saw  ;  even  in 
his  old  face,  the  blood  came  up.  "  I  think  this  is  not  a  very 
wisely  chosen  moment,  Henry,  for  complaints,"  said  he. 
"  This  takes  away  from  the  merit  of  your  generosity." 

"  Do  not  deceive  yourself,  my  lord,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 
"This  injustice  is  not  done  from  generosity  to  him,  but  in 
obedience  to  yourself." 

*'  Before  strangers  .  .  ."  begins  my  lord,  still  more  un- 
happily affected. 

"  There  is  no  one  but  Mackellar  here,"  said  Mr.  Henry  ; 
"  he  is  my  friend.  And  my  lord,  as  you  make  him  no 
stranger  to  your  frequent  blame,  it  were  hard  if  I  must 
keep  him  one  to  a  thing  so  rare  as  my  defense." 

Almost  I  believe  my  lord  would  have  rescinded  his  deci- 
sion ;  but  the  Master  was  on  the  watch. 

"Ah,  Henry,  Henry,"  says  he,  "you  are  the  best  of  us 
still.     Rugged  and  true  !     Ah,  man,  I  wish  I  was  as  good." 

And  at  that  instance  of  his  favorite's  generosity,  my  lord 
desisted  from  his  hesitation,  and  the  deed  was  signed. 

As  soon  as  it  could  be  brought  about,  the  land  of  Ochter- 
hall  was  sold  for  much  below  its  value,  and  the  money  paid 
over  to  our  leech  and  sent  by  some  private  carriage  into 
France.  Or  so  he  said  ;  though  I  have  suspected  since  it 
did  not  go  so  far.  And  now  here  was  all  the  man's  busi- 
ness brought  to  a  successful  head,  and  his  pockets  once 
more  bulging  with  our  gold  ;  and  yet  the  point  for  which  we 
had  consented  to  this  sacrifice  was  still  denied  us,  and  the 
visitor  still  lingered  on  at  Durrisdeer.  Whether  in  malice, 
or  because  the  time  was  not  yet  come  for  his  adventure  to 
the  Indies,  or  because  he  had  hopes  of  his  design  on  Mrs. 
Henry,  or  from  the  orders  of  the  government,  who  shall 
say  ?  but  linger  he  did  and  that  for  weeks. 


lOO  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

You  will  observe  I  say,  from  the  orders  of  government .  \ 
for  about  this  time,  the  man's  disreputable  secret  trickled  • 
out. 

The  first  hint  I  had  was  from  a  tenant,  who  commented 
on  the  Master's  stay  and  yet  more  on  his  security  ;  for  this 
tenant  was  a  Jacobitish  sympathizer,  and  had  lost  a  son  at 
Culloden,  which  gave  him  the  more  critical  eye.  "  There 
is  one  thing,"  said  he,  "  that  I  cannot  but  think  strange  ; 
and  that  is  how  he  got  to  Cockermouth," 

"  To  Cockermouth  ? "  said  I,  with  a  sudden  memory  of 
my  first  wonder  on  beholding  the  man  disembark  ^o  point- 
device  after  so  long  a  voyage. 

"  Why,  yes,"  says  the  tenant,  "it  was  there  he  was  picked 
up  by  Captain  Crail.  You  thought  he  had  come  from 
France  by  sea?    And  so  we  all  did." 

I  turned  this  news  a  little  in  my  head,  and  then  carried  it 
to  Mr.  Henry.  "  Here  is  an  odd  circumstance,"  said  I,  and 
told  him. 

"  What  matters  how  he  came,  Mackellar,  so  long  as  he  is 
here,"  groans  Mr.  Henry. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  I,  *'  but  think  again  !  Does  not  this 
smack  a  little  of  some  government  connivance?  You 
know  how  much  we  have  wondered  already  at  the  man's 
security." 

**  Stop,"  said  Mr.  Henry.  "  Let  me  think  of  this."  And 
as  he  thought,  there  came  that  grim  smile  upon  his  face 
that  was  a  little  like  the  Master's.  "  Give  me  paper,"  said  he. 
And  he  sat  without  another  word  and  wrote  to  a  gentlem.an 
of  his  acquaintance — I  will  name  no  unnecessary  names, 
but  he  was  one  in  a  high  place.  This  letter  I  dispatched 
by  the  only  hand  I  could  depend  upon  in  such  a  case,  Mac- 
conochie's  ;  and  the  old  man  rode  hard,  for  he  was  back 
with  a  reply,  before  even  my  eagerness  had  ventured  to 
expect  him.  Again,  as  he  read  it,  Mr.  Henry  had  the  same 
grim  smile. 


FERSECUTJpkS,        ^   _    ^    ^,    ,  IQl 

"This  is  the  best  you  have  done  "for  trie  yet,  Mkckellar,*'  / 
says  he.     "With  this  in  my  hand,  I  will  give  him  a  shog.  * 
Watch  for  us  at  dinner." 

At  dinner  accordingly,  Mr.  Henry  proposed  some  very 
public  appearance  for  the  Master  ;  and  my  lord,  as  he  had 
hoped,  objected  to  the  danger  of  the  course. 

"  Oh,"  says  Mr.  Henry,  very  easily,  "  you  need  no  longer 
keep  this  up  with  me.  I  am  as  much  in  the  secret  as 
yourself." 

"  In  the  secret  ?"  says  my  lord.  "What  do  you  mean, 
Henry  ?  I  give  you  my  word  I  am  in  no  secret  from  which 
you  are  excluded." 

The  Master  had  changed  countenance,  and  I  saw  he  was 
struck  in  a  joint  of  his  harness. 

"  How  ? "  says  Mr.  Henry,  turning  to  him  with  a  huge 
appearance  of  surprise.  "  I  see  you  serve  your  masters  very 
faithfully  ;  but  I  had  thought  you  would  have  been  human 
enough  to  set  your  father's  mind  at  rest." 

"  What  are  you  talking  of  ?  I  refuse  to  have  my  busi- 
ness publicly  discussed.  I  order  this  to  cease,"  cries  the 
Master  very  foolishly  and  passionately,  and  indeed  more 
like  a  child  than  a  man. 

"  So  much  discretion  was  not  looked  for  at  your  hands, 
I  can  assure  you,"  continued  Mr.  Henry.  "  For  see  what 
my  correspondent  writes  " — unfolding  the  paper — "  *  It  is, 
of  course,  in  the  interests  both  of  the  government  and  the 
gentleman  whom  we  may  perhaps  best  continue  to  call  Mr. 
Bally,  to  keep  this  understanding  secret  ;  but  it  was  never 
meant  his  own  family  should  continue  to  endure  the  sus- 
pense you  paint  so  feelingly  ;  and  I  am  pleased  mine  should  j 
be  the  hand  to  set  these  fears  at  rest.  Mr.  Bally  is  as^| 
safe  in  Great  Britain  as  yourself.'  " 

"  Is  this  possible  ? "  cries  my  lord,  looking  at  his  son,  with 
a  great  deal  of  wonder  and  still  more  of  suspicion  in  his 
face. 


102       \    ^^    [the  MA  ^fE.R  OF  BALL  ANTRA  E. 

'''^liiy  deaf'fat'hfei-;''*  'says' the  Master,  already  much  recov- 
ered, *' I  am  overjoyed  that  this  may  be  disclosed.  My  own 
instructions  direct  from  London  bore  a  very  contrary  sense, 
and  I  was  charged  to  keep  the  indulgence  secret  from 
every  one,  yourself  not  excepted,  and  indeed  yourself  ex- 
pressly named — as  I  can  show  in  black  and  white,  unless  I 
have  destroyed  the  letter.  They  must  have  changed  their 
mind  very  swiftly,  for  the  whole  matter  is  still  quite  fresh  ; 
or  rather  Henry's  correspondent  must  have  misconceived  on 
that  part,  as  he  seems  to  have  misconceived  the  rest.  To 
tell  you  the  truth,  sir,"  he  continued,  getting  visibly  more 
easy,  "I  had  supposed  this  unexplained  favor  to  a  rebel 
was  the  effect  of  some  application  from  yourself  ;  and  the 
injunction  to  secrecy  among  my  family  the  result  of  a  desire 
on  your  part  to  conceal  your  kindness.  Hence  I  was  the 
more  careful  to  obey  orders.  It  remains  now  to  guess  by 
what  other  channel  indulgence  can  have  flowed  on  so  notor- 
ious an  offender  as  myself ;  for  I  do  not  think  your  son 
need  defend  himself  from  what  seems  hinted  at  in  Henry's 
letter.  I  have  never  yet  heard  of  a  Durrisdeer  who  was 
a  turncoat  or  a  spy,"  says  he  proudly. 

And  so  it  seemed  he  had  swum  out  of  this  danger 
unharmed  ;  but  this  was  to  reckon  without  a  blunder  he 
had  made,  and  without  the  pertinacity  of  Mr.  Henry, 
who  was  now  to  show  he  had  something  of  his  brother's 
spirit. 

"  You  say  the  matter  is  still  fresh,"  says  Mr,  Henry. 

"  It  is  recent,"  says  the  Master,  with  a  fair  show  of  stout- 
ness and  yet  not  without  a  quaver, 

"  Is  it  so  recent  as  that?"  asks  Mr.  Henry  like  a  man  a 
little  puzzled,  and  spreading  his  letter  forth  again. 

In  all  the  letter  there  was  no  word  as  to  the  date ;  but 
how  was  the  Master  to  know  that  ? 

"  It  seemed  to  come  late  enough  for  me,"  says  he,  with 
a.  laugh.     And  at  the  sound  of  that  laugh,  which  rang  false 


PERSECUTIbNS.  I03 

like  a'cracked  bell,  my  lord  looked  at  him  again  across  the 
table,  and  I  saw  his  old  lips  draw  together  close. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Henry,  still  glancing  on  his  letter,  "but 
I  remember  your  expression.     You  said  it  was  very  fresh." 

And  here  we  had  a  proof  of  our  victory,  and  the  strongest 
instance  yet  of  my  lord's  incredible  indulgence ;  for  what 
must  he  do  but  interfere  to  save  his  favorite  from  exposure  ! 

"  I  think,  Henry,"  says  he,  with  a  kind  of  pitiful  eager- 
ness, "  I  think  we  need  dispute  no  more.  We  are  all  rejoiced 
at  last  to  find  your  brother  safe  ;  we  are  all  at  one  on  that  ; 
and  as  grateful  subjects,  we  can  do  no  less  than  drink  to 
the  king's  health  and  bounty." 

Thus  was  the  Master  extricated  ;  but  at  least  he  had 
been  put  to  his  defense,  he  had  come  lamely  out,  and  the 
attraction  of  his  personal  danger  was  now  publicly  plucked 
away  from  him.  My  lord,  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  now  knew 
his  favorite  to  be  a  government  spy;  and  Mrs.  Henry ^ 
(however  she  explained  the  tale)  was  notably  cold  in  her 
behavior  to  the  discredited  hero  of  romance.  Thus  in  the 
best  fabric  of  duplicity,  there  is  some  weak  point,  if  you  can 
strike  it,  which  will  loosen  all  ;  and  if,  by  this  fortunate 
stroke,  we  had  not  shaken  the  idol,  who  can  say  how  it 
might  have  gone  with  us  at  the  catastrophe  ? 

And  yet  at  the  time  we  seemed  to  have  accomplished 
nothing.  Before  a  day  or  two  he  had  wiped  off  the  ill- 
results  of  his  discomfiture,  and  to  all  appearance,  stood  as 
high  as  ever.  As  for  my  Lord  Durrisdeer,  he  was  sunk  in 
parental  partiality  ;  it  was  not  so  much  love,  which  should 
be  an  active  quality,  as  an  apathy  and  torpor  of  his  other 
powers  ;  and  forgiveness  (so  to  misapply  a  noble  word) 
flowed  from  him  in  sheer  weakness,  like  the  tears  of  senility. 
Mrs.  Henry's  was  a  different  case  ;  and  Heaven  alone  knows 
what  he  found  to  say  to  her  or  how  he  persuaded  her  from 
her  contempt.  It  is  one  of  the  worst  things  of  sentiment, 
that  the  voice  grows  to  be  more  important  than  the  words, 


104  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

and  the  speaker  than  that  which  is  spoken.  But  some  ex- 
cuse the  Master  must  have  found,  or  perhaps  he  had  even 
struck  upon  some  art  to  wrest  this  exposure  to  his  own  ad- 
vantage ;  for  after  a  time  of  coldness,  it  seemed  as  if  things 
went  worse  than  ever  between  him  and  Mrs.  Henry.  They 
were  then  constantly  together.  I  would  not  be  thought  to 
cast  one  shadow  of  blame,  beyond  what  is  due  to  a  half- 
willful  blindness,  on  that  unfortunate  lady;  but  I  do  think, 
in  these  last  days,  she  was  playing  very  near  the  fire  ;  and 
whether  I  be  wrong  or  not  in  that,  one  thing  is  sure  and 
quite  sufficient :  Mr.  Henry  thought  so.  The  poor  gentle- 
man sat  for  days  in  my  room,  so  great  a  picture  of  distress 
that  I  could  never  venture  to  address  him  ;  yet  it  is  to  be 
thought  he  found  some  comfort  even  in  my  presence  and 
the  knowledge  of  my  sympathy.  There  were  times,  too, 
when  we  talked,  and  a  strange  manner  of  talk  it  was ; 
there  was  never  a  person  named,  nor  an  individual  circum- 
stance referred  to  ;  yet  we  had  the  same  matter  in  our 
minds,  and  we  were  each  aware  of  it.  It  is  a  strange  art 
that  can  thus  be  practiced  :  to  talk  for  hours  of  a  thing, 
and  never  name  nor  yet  so  much  as  hint  at  it.  And  I  re- 
member I  wondered  if  it  was  by  some  such  natural  skill 
that  the  Master  made  love  to  Mrs.  Henry  all  day  long  (as 
he  manifestly  did),  yet  never  startled  her  into  reserve. 

To  show  how  far  affairs  had  gone  with  Mr.  Henry,  I  will 
give  some  words  of  his,  uttered  (as  I  have  cause  not  to  for- 
get) upon  the  26th  of  February,  1757.  It  was  unseasonable 
weather,  a  cast  back  into  winter  :  windless,  bitter  cold,  the 
world  all  white  with  rime,  the  sky  low  and  gray ;  the  sea 
black  and  silent  like  a  quarry  hole.  Mr.  Henry  sat  close 
by  the  fire  and  debated  (as  was  now  common  with  him) 
whether  ''  a  man  "  should  "  do  things,"  whether  "  interfer- 
ence was  wise,"  and  the  like  general  propositions,  which 
each  of  us  particularly  applied.  I  was  by  the  window  look- 
ing out,  when  there  passed  below  me  the   Master,  Mrs. 


PERSECUTIONS, .  1 05 

Henry,  and  Miss  Katharine,  that  now  constant  trio.  The 
child  was  running  to  and  fro  delighted  with  the  frost ;  the 
Master  spoke  close  in  the  lady's  ear  with  what  seemed  (even 
from  so  far)  a  devilish  grace  of  insinuation  ;  and  she  on  her 
part  looked  on  the  ground  like  a  person  lost  in  listening. 
I  broke  out  of  my  reserve. 

"  If  I  were  you,  Mr.  Henry,"  said  I,  "I  would  deal  openly 
with  my  lord." 

"  Mackellar,  Mackellar,"  said  he,  "you  do  not  see  the 
weakness  of  my  ground.  I  can  carry  no  such  base  thoughts 
to  any  one  :  to  my  father  least  of  all ;  that  would  be  to  fall 
into  the  bottom  of  his  scorn.  The  weakness  of  my  ground," 
he  continued,  "  lies  in  myself,  that  I  am  not  one  who  en- 
gages love.  I  have  their  gratitude,  they  all  tell  me  that  : 
I  have  a  rich  estate  of  it !  But  I  am  not  present  in  their 
minds  ;  they  are  moved  neither  to  think  with  me  nor  to 
think  for  me.  There  is  my  loss  !  "  He  got  to  his  feet,  and 
trod  down  the  fire.  "  But  some  method  must  be  found, 
Mackellar,"  said  he,  looking  at  me  suddenly  over  his 
shoulder  ;  "some  way  must  be  found.  I  am  a  man  of  a 
great  deal  of  patience — far  too  much — far  too  much.  I 
begin  to  despise  myself.  And  yet  sure  never  was  a  man 
involved  in  such  a  toil  !  "     He  fell  back  to  his  brooding. 

"  Cheer  up,"  said  I.     "  It  will  burst  of  itself." 

"  I  am  far  past  anger  now,"  says  he,  which  had  so  little 
coherency  with  my  own  observation,  that  I  let  both  fall. 


ACCOUNT  OF  ALL  THAT  PASSED  ON  THE 
NIGHT  OF  FEBRUARY  27,  1757. 

On  the  evening  of  the  interview  referred  to,  the  Master 
went  abroad  ;  he  was  abroad  a  great  deal  of  the  next  day 
also,  that  fatal  27th  ;  but  where  he  went  or  what  he  did,  we 
never  concerned  ourselves  to  ask  until  next  day.  If  we 
had  done  so,  and  by  any  chance  found  out,  it  might  have 
changed  all.  But  as  all  we  did  was  done  in  ignorance,  and 
should  be  so  judged,  I  shall  so  narrate  these  passages  as 
they  appeared  to  us  in  the  moment  of  their  birth,  and  re- 
serve all  that  I  since  discovered  for  the  time  of  its  discov- 
ery. For  I  have  now  come  to  one  of  the  dark  parts  of  my 
narrative,  and  must  engage  the  reader's  indulgence  for  my 
patron. 

All  the  27th,  that  rigorous  weather  endured  :  a  stifling 
cold  ;  the  folk  passing  about  like  smoking  chimneys  ;  the 
wide  hearth  in  the  hall  piled  high  with  fuel  ;  some  of  the 
spring  birds  that  had  already  blundered  north  into  our 
neighborhood,  besieging  the  windows  of  the  house  or  trot- 
ting on  the  frozen  turf  like  things  distracted.  About  noon, 
there  came  a  blink  of  sunshine ;  showing  a  very  pretty, 
wintry,  frosty  landscape  of  white  hills  and  woods,  with  Crail's 
lugger  waiting  for  a  wind  under  the  Craig  Head,  and  the 
smoke  mounting  straight  into  the  air  from  every  farm  and 
cottage.  With  the  coming  of  night,  the  haze  closed  in  over- 
head ;  it  fell  dark  and  still  and  starless  and  exceeding  cold  ; 
a  night  the  most  unseasonable,  fit  for  strange  events. 

Mrs.  Henry  withdrew,  as  was  now  her  custom,  very  early. 
We  had  set  ourselves  of  late  to  pass  the  evening  with  a 
game  of  cards,  another  mark  that  our  visitor  was  wearying 

J06 


THE  NIGHT  OF  FEBRUARY  27.  lo7 

mightily  of  the  life  at  Durrisdeer,  and  we  had  not  been 
long  at  this  when  my  old  lord  slipped  from  his  place  beside 
the  fire,  and  was  off  without  a  word  to  seek  the  warmth  of 
bed.  The  three  thus  left  together  had  neither  love  nor 
courtesy  to  share ;  not  one  of  us  would  have  sat  up  one 
instant  to  oblige  another ;  yet  from  the  influence  of  custom 
and  as  the  cdrds  had  just  been  dealt,  we  continued  the 
form  of  playing  out  the  round.  I  should  say  we  were  late 
sitters,  and  though  my  lord  had  departed  earlier  than 
was  his  custom,  twelve  was  already  gone  some  time  upon 
the  clock,  and  the  servants  long  ago  in  bed.  Another 
thing  I  should  say,  that  although  I  never  saw  the  Master 
any  way  affected  with  liquor,  he  had  been  drinking  freely, 
and  was  perhaps  (although  he  showed  it  not)  a  trifle  heated. 

Anyway,  he  now  practiced  one  of  his  transitions  ;  and  so 
soon  as  the  door  closed  behind  my  lord,  and  without  the 
smallest  change  of  voice,  shifted  from  ordinary  civil  talk 
into  a  stream  of  insult. 

"  My  dear  Henry,  it  is  yours  to  play,"  he  had  been  say- 
ing, and  now  continued  :  "  It  is  a  very  strange  thing  how, 
even  in  so  small  a  matter  as  a  game  of  cards,  you  display 
your  rusticity.  You  play,  Jacob,  like  a  bonnet  laird,  or  a 
sailor  in  a  tavern.  The  same  dullness,  the  same  petty  greed, 
cette  letiteur  d'hibete  qui  vie  fait  ragerj  it  is  strange  I  should 
have  such  a  brother.  Even  Squaretoes  has  a  certain  vivacity 
when  his  stake  is  imperiled  ;  but  the  dreariness  of  a  game 
with  you  I  positively  lack  language  to  depict." 

Mr.  Henry  continued  to  look  at  his  cards,  as  though 
very  maturely  considering  some  play  ;  but  his  mind  was 
elsewhere. 

"  Dear  God,  will  this  never  be  done  ?"  cries  the  Master. 
"  Quel  lourdeau  !  But  why  do  I  trouble  you  with  French 
expressions,  which  are  lost  on  such  an  ignoramus  ?  A  lour^ 
deau^  my  dear  brother,  is  as  we  might  say  a  bumpkin,  a 
clown,  a  clodpole  ;  a  fellow  without  grace,  lightness,  quick- 


lo8  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

ness  ;  any  gift  of  pleasing,  any  natural  brilliancy  ;  such  a 
one  as  you  shall  see,  when  you  desire,  by  looking  in  the 
mirror.  I  tell  you  these  things  for  your  good,  I  assure 
you  ;  and  besides,  Squaretoes  (looking  at  me  and  stifling 
a  yawn),  it  is  one  of  my  diversions  in  this  very  dreary 
spot  to  toast  you  and  your  master  in  the  fire  like  chestnuts. 
I  have  great  pleasure  in  your  case,  for  I  observe  the  nick- 
name (rustic  as  it  is)  has  always  the  power  to  make  you 
writhe.  But  sometimes  I  have  more  trouble  with  this  dear 
fellow  here,  who  seems  to  have  gone  to  sleep  upon  his 
cards.  Do  you  not  see  the  applicability  of  the  epithet  I 
have  just  explained,  dear  Henry  ?  Let  me  show  you.  For 
instance,  with  all  those  solid  qualities  which  I  delight  to 
recognize  in  you,  I  never  knew  a  woman  who  did  not  prefer 
me — nor,  I  think,"  he  continued,  with  the  most  silken  de- 
liberation, "  I  think — who  did  not  continue  to  prefer  me." 

Mr.  Henry  laid  down  his  cards.  He  rose  to  his  feet  very 
softly,  and  seemed  all  the  while  like  a  person  in'  deep 
thought.  "  You  coward  !  "  he  said  gently,  as  if  to  himself. 
And  then,  with  neither  hurry  nor  any  particular  violence, 
he  struck  the  Master  in  the  mouth. 

The  Master  sprang  to  his  feet  like  one  transfigured  ;  I 
had  never  seen  the  man  so  beautiful.  "  A  blow  !  "  he  cried. 
"  I  would  not  take  a  blow  from  God  Almighty." 

"  Lower  your  voice,"  said  Mr.  Henry.  "  Do  you  wish 
my  father  to  interfere  for  you  again?" 

"  Gentlemen,  gentlemen,"  I  cried,  and  sought  to  come 
between  them. 

The  Master  caught  me  by  the  shoulder,  held  me  at  arm's 
length,  and  still  addressing  his  brother :  "  Do  you  know 
what  this  means  ? "  said  he. 

*'  It  was  the  most  deliberate  act  of  my  life,"  says  Mr. 
Henry. 

"  I  must  have  blood,  I  must  have  blood  for  this,"  says 
the  Master. 


THE  NIGHT  OF  FEBRUAR  V  27.  I09 

"  Please  God,  it  shall  be  yours,"  said  Mr.  Henry ;  and  he 
went  to  the  wall  and  took  down  a  pair  of  swords  that  hung 
there  with  others,  naked.  These  he  presented  to  the  Mas- 
ter by  the  points.  "  Mackellar  shall  see  us  play  fair,"  said 
Mr.  Henry.     "  I  think  it  very  needful." 

"  You  need  insult  me  no  more,"  said  the  Master,  taking 
one  of  the  swords  at  random.  "  I  have  hated  you  all  my 
life." 

**  My  father  is  but  newly  gone  to  bed,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 
"  We  must  go  somewhere  forth  of  the  house." 

"  There  is  an  excellent  place  in  the  long  shrubbery,"  said 
the  Master. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  I,  "  shame  upon  you  both  !  Sons  of 
the  same  mother,  would  you  turn  against  the  life  she  gave 
you  ? " 

"  Even  so,  Mackellar,"  said  Mr.  Henry,  with  the  same 
perfect  quietude  of  manner  he  had  shown  throughout. 

"  It  is  what  I  will  prevent,"  said  I. 

And  now  here  is  a  blot  upon  my  life.  At  these  words  of 
mine,  the  Master  turned  his  blade  against  my  bosom  ;  I  saw 
the  light  run  along  the  steel  ;  and  I  threw  up  my  arms  and 
fell  to  my  knees  before  him  on  the  floor.  "  No,  no,"  I  cried, 
like  a  baby. 

"  We  shall  have  no  more  trouble  with  him,"  said  the 
Master.  "  It  is  a  good  thing  to  have  a  coward  in  the 
house." 

'*  We  must  have  light,"  said  Mr.  Henry,  as  though  there 
had  been  no  interruption. 

"  This  trembler  can  bring  a  pair  of  candles,"  said  the 
Master. 

To  my  shame  be  it  said,  I  was  still  so  blinded  with  the 
flashing  of  that  bare  sword,  that  I  volunteered  to  bring  a 
lantern. 

*'  We  do  not  need  a  1-1-lantern,"  says  the  Master,  mock- 
ing me.     "  There  is  no  breath  of  air.     Come,  get  to  your 


110  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

feet,  take  a  pair  of  lights  and  go  before.  I  am  close  be- 
hind with  this — "  making  the  blade  glitter  as  he  spoke. 

I  took  up  the  candlesticks  and  went  before  them,  steps 
that  I  would  give  my  hand  to  recall  ;  but  a  coward  is  a  slave 
at  the  best  ;  and  even  as  I  went,  my  teeth  smote  each  other 
in  my  mouth.  It  was  as  he  had  said,  there  was  no  breath 
stirring  :  a  windless  stricture  of  frost  had  bound  the  air  ; 
and  as  we  went  forth  in  the  shine  of  the  candles,  the  black- 
ness was  like  a  roof  over  our  heads.  Never  a  word  was 
said,  there  was  never  a  sound  but  the  creaking  of  our  steps 
along  the  frozen  path.  The  cold  of  the  night  fell  about  me 
like  a  bucket  of  water  ;  I  shook  as  I  went  with  more  than 
terror  ;  but  my  companions,  bareheaded  like  myself  and 
fresh  from  the  warm  hall,  appeared  not  even  conscious  of 
the  change. 

"  Here  is  the  place,"  said  the  Master.  "  Set  down  the 
candles." 

I  did  as  he  bid  me,  and  presently  the  flames  went  up  as 
steady  as  in  a  chamber  in  the  midst  of  the  frosted  trees, 
and  I  beheld  these  two  brothers  take  their  places. 

"  The  light  is  something  in  my  eyes,"  said  the 
Master. 

"I  will  give  you  every  advantage,"  replied  Mr.  Henry, 
shifting  his  ground,  "  for  I  think  you  are  about  to  die."  He 
spoke  rather  sadly  than  otherwise  ;  yet  there  was  a  ring  in 
his  voice. 

"  Henry  Durie,"  said  the  Master,  "  two  words  before  I 
begin.  You  are  a  fencer,  ^ou  can  hold  a  foil  ;  you  little 
know  what  change  it  makes  to  hold  a  sword  !  And  by  that 
I  know  you  are  to  fall.  But  see  how  strong  is  my  situa- 
tion !  If  you  fall,  I  shift  out  of  this  country  to  where  my 
money  is  before  me.  If  I  fall,  where  are  you  ?  My  father, 
your  wife  who  is  in  love  with  me — as  you  very  well  know — 
your  child  even  who  prefers  me  to  yourself, — how  will  these 
avenge   me  !     Had  you   thought  of  that,  dear  Henry  ? " 


THE  NIGHT  OF  FBBR  UAR  K  27.  m 

He  looked  at  his  brother  with  a  smile  ;  then  made  a  fencing- 
room  salute. 

Never  a  word  said  Mr.  Henry,  but  saluted,  too,  and  the 
swords  rang  together. 

I  am  no  judge  of  the  play,  my  head  besides  was  gone 
with  cold  and  fear  and  horror  ;  but  it  seems  that  Mr.  Henry 
took  and  kept  the  upper  hand  from  the  engagement,  crowd- 
ing in  upon  his  foe  with  a  contained  and  glowing  fury. 
Nearer  and  nearer  he  crept  upon  the  man  till,  of  a' sudden, 
the  Master  leaped  back  with  a  little  sobbing  oath  ;  and  I 
believe  the  movement  brought  the  light  once  more  against 
his  eyes.  To  it  they  went  again,  on  the  fresh  ground  ;  but 
now  methought  closer,  Mr.  Henry  pressing  more  outra- 
geously, the  Master  beyond  doubt  with  shaken  confidence. 
For  it  is  beyond  doubt  he  now  recognized  himself  for  lost, 
and  had  some  taste  of  the  cold  agony  of  fear ;  or  he  had 
never  attempted  the  foul  stroke.  I  cannot  say  I  followed 
it,  my  untrained  eye  was  never  quick  enough  to  seize  de- 
tails, but  it  appears  he  caught  his  brother's  blade  with  his 
left  hand,  a  practice  not  permitted.  Certainly  Mr.  Henry 
only  saved  himself  by  leaping  on  one  side  ;  as  certainly 
the  Master,  lunging  in  the  air,  stumbled  on  his  knee,  and 
before  he  could  move,  the  sword  was  through  his  body. 

I  cried  out  with  a  stifled  scream,  and  ran  in  ;  but  the  body 
was  already  fallen  to  the  ground,  where  it  writhed  a  mo- 
ment like  a  trodden  worm,  and  then  lay  motionless. 

"  Look  at  his  left  hand,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 

"It  is  all  bloody,"  said  I. 

**  On  the  inside  ?  "  said  he. 

"  It  is  cut  on  the  inside,"  said  I. 

"I  thought  so,"  said  he,  and  turned  his  back. 

I  opened  the  man's  clothes  ;  the  heart  was  quite  still,  it 
gave  not  a  flutter. 

"  God  forgive  us,  Mr.  Henry  !  "  said  I.     "  He  is  dead."'  / 

"  Dead  ? "  he  repeated,  a  little  stupidly ;  and  then  with  a*^ 


112  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

rising  tone,  "  Dead  ?  dead  ?  "  says  he,  and  suddenly  cast 
his  bloody  sword  upon  the  ground. 

"  What  must  we  do  ? "  said  I.  "  Be  yourself,  sir.  It  is 
too  late  now  :  you  must  be  yourself." 

He  turned  and  stared  at  me.  *'  O,  Mackellar  !  "  says  he, 
and  put  his  face  in  his  hand. 

I  plucked  him  by  the  coat.  "  For  God's  sake,  for  all 
our  sakes,  be  more  courageous  ! "  said  I.  "  What  must 
we  do?" 

He  showed  me  his  face  with  the  same  stupid  stare. 
**  Do  ?  "  says  he.  And  with  that  his  eye  fell  on  the  body, 
and  "  Oh  !  "  he  cries  out,  with  his  hand  to  his  brow,  as  if  he 
had  never  remembered  ;  and  turning  from  me,  made  off 
toward  the  house  of  Durrisdeer  at  a  strange  stumbling  run. 

I  stood  a  moment  mused ;  then  it  seemed  to  me  my  duty 
lay  most  plain  on  the  side  of  the  living  ;  and  I  ran  after 
him,  leaving  the  candles  on  the  frosty  ground  and  the  body 
lying  in  their  light  under  the  trees.  But  run  as  I  pleased, 
he  had  the  start  of  me,  and  was  got  into  the  house,  and  up 
to  the  hall,  where  I  found  him  standing  before  the  fire  with 
his  face  once  more  in  his  hands,  and  as  he  so  stood,  he 
visibly  shuddered. 

"  Mr.  Henry,  Mr.  Henry,"  I  said,  "  this  will  be  the  ruin 
of  us  all." 

"  What  is  this  that  I  have  done  ? "  cried  he,  and  then, 
looking  upon  me  with  a  countenance  that  I  shall  never  for- 
get, "  Who  is  to  tell  the  old  man  ?  "  he  said. 

The  word  knocked  at  my  heart ;  but  it  was  no  time  for 
weakness.  I  went  and  poured  him  out  a  glass  of  brandy. 
"Drink  that,"  said  I,  "  drink  it  down."  I  forced  him  to 
swallow  it  like  a  child  ;  and,  being  still  perished  with  the 
cold  of  the  night,  I  followed  his  example. 

"  It  has  to  be  told,  Mackellar,"  said  he.  "  It  must  be 
told."  And  he  fell  suddenly  in  a  seat — my  old  lord's  seat 
by  the  chimney-side — and  was  shaken  with  dry  sobs. 


THE  NIGHT  OF  FEBR  UAR  V  27.  113 

Dismay  came  upon  my  soul  ;  it  was  plain  there  was  no 
help  in  Mr.  Henry.  "Well,"  said  I,  "sit  there,  and  leave 
all  to  me."  And  taking  a  candle  in  my  hand,  I  set  forth 
out  of  the  room  in  the  dark  house.  There  was  no  move- 
ment ;  I  must  suppose  that  all  had  gone  unobserved  ;  and 
1  was  now  to  consider  how  to  smuggle  through  the  rest 
with  the  like  secrecy.  It  was  no  hour  for  scruples  ;  and  I 
opened  my  lady's  door  without  so  much  as  a  knock,  and 
passed  boldly  in. 

"  There  is  some  calamity  happened,"  she  cried,  sitting  up 
in  bed. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  I  will  go  forth  again  into  the  passage  ; 
and  do  you  get  as  quickly  as  you  can  into  your  clothes. 
There  is  much  to  be  done." 

She  troubled  me  with  no  questions,  nor  did  she  keep  me 
wailing.  Ere  I  had  time  to  prepare  a  word  of  that  which  I 
must  say  to  her,  she  was  on  the  threshold  signing  me  to 
enter. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  if  you  cannot  be  very  brave,  I  must 
go  elsewhere  ;  for  if  ho  one  helps  me  to-night,  there  is  an 
end  of  the  house  of  Durrisdeer." 

"  I  am  very  courageous,"  said  she  ;  and  she  looked  at  me 
with  a  sort  of  smile,  very  painful  to  see,  but  very  brave  too. 

"  It  has  come  to  a  duel,"  said  I. 

"  A  duel  ?  "  she  repeated.     "  A  duel  !     Henry  and — " 

"And  the  Master,"  said  I.  "  Things  have  been  borne  so 
long,  things  of  which  you  know  nothing,  which  you  would 
not  believe  if  I  should  tell.  But  to-night  it  went  too  far, 
and  when  he  insulted  you — " 

"  Stop,"  said  she.     "  He  ?    Who  ?  " 

"  Oh,  madam  !  "  cried  I,  my  bitterness  breaking  forth,  "do 
you  ask  me  such  a  question  ?  Indeed,  then,  I  may  go  else- 
where for  help  ;  there  is  none  here  !  " 

"  I  do  not  know  in  what  I  have  offended  you,"  said  she. 
"  Forgive  me  ;  put  me  out  of  this  suspense." 


114  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

But  I  dare  not  tell  her  yet ;  I  felt  not  sure  of  her  ;  and 
at  the  doubt  and  under  the  sense  of  impotence  it  brought 
with  it,  I  turned  on  the  poor  woman  with  something  near  to 
anger. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  we  are  speaking  of  two  men  :  one  of 
them  insulted  you,  and  you  ask  me  which.  I  will  help  you 
to  the  answer.  With  one  of  these  men  you  have  spent  all 
your  hours  :  has  the  other  reproached  you  ?  To  one,  you 
have  been  always  kind  ;  to  the  other,  as  God  sees  me  and 
judges  between  us  two,  I  think  not  always  :  has  his  love 
ever  failed  you  ?  To-night  one  of  these  two  men  told  the 
other,  in  my  hearing, — the  hearing  of  a  hired  stranger, — 
that  you  were  in  love  with  him.  Before  I  say  one  word, 
you  shall  answer  your  own  question  :  Which  was  it  ?  Nay, 
madam,  you  shall  answer  me  another :  If  it  has  come  to 
this  dreadful  end,  whose  fault  is  it  ?" 

She  stared  at  me  like  one  dazzled.  "•  Good  God  !  "  she 
said  once,  in  a  kind  of  bursting  exclamation ;  and  then  a 
second  time,  in  a  whisper  to  herself,  "  Great  God  ! — In  the 
name  of  mercy,  Mackellar,  what  is  wrong  ?  "  she  cried. 
"  I  am  made  up  ;  I  can  hear  all." 

"  You  are  not  fit  to  hear,"  said  I.  "  Whatever  it  was,  you 
shall  say  first  it  was  your  fault." 

"  Oh  !  "  she  cried,  with  a  gesture  of  wringing  her  hands, 
"  this  man  will  drive  me  mad  !  Can  you  not  put  7ne  out  of 
your  thoughts  ? " 

"  I  think  not  once  of  you,"  I  cried.  '*  I  think  of  none 
but  my  dear  unhappy  master." 

"  Ah  !  "  she  cried,  with  her  hand  to  her  heart,  "  is  Henry 
dead?" 

"  Lower  your  voice,"  said  I.     "  The  other." 

I  saw  her  sway  like  something  stricken  by  the  wind  ;  and 
I  know  not  whether  in  cowardice  or  misery,  turned  aside 
and  looked  upon  the  floor.  "  These  are  dreadful  tidings," 
said  I,  at  length,  when  her  silence  began  to  put  me  in  some 


THE  NIGHT  OF  FEBRUARY  27.  1 15 

fear  ;  "  and  you  and  I  behove  to  be  the  more  bold  if  the 
house  is  to  be  saved."  Still  she  answered  nothing.  "There 
is  Miss  Katharine  besides,"  I  added  :  "unless  we  bring  this 
matter  through,  her  inheritance  is  like  to  be  of  shame." 

I  do  not  know  if  it  was  the  thought  of  her  child  or  the 
naked  word  shame,  that  gave  her  deliverance  ;  at  least  I 
had  no  sooner  spoken  than  a  sound  passed  her  lips,  the 
like  of  it  I  never  heard  ;  it  was  as  though  she  had  lain 
buried  under  a  hill  and  sought  to  move  that  burthen.  And 
the  next  moment  she  had  found  a  sort  of  voice. 

"  It  was  a  fight,"  she  whispered.  "  It  was  not —  ?  "  and 
she  paused  upon  the  word.. 

"  It  was  a  fair  fight  on  my  dear  master's  part,"  said  I. 
"  As  for  the  other,  he  was  slain  in  the  very  act  of  a  foul 
stroke." 

"  Not  now  !  "  she  cried. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  hatred  of  that  man  glows  in  my 
bosom  like  a  burning  fire  ;  ay,  even  now  he  is  dead.  God 
knows,  I  would  have  stopped  the  fighting,  had  I  dared.  It 
is  my  shame  I  did  not.  But  when  I  saw  him  fall,  if  I  could 
have  spared  one  thought  from  pitying  of  my  master,  it  had 
been  to  exult  in  that  deliverance." 

I  do  not  know  if  she  marked  ;  but  her  next  words  were  : 
"My  lord?" 

"  That  shall  be  my  part,"  said  I. 

"  You  will  not  speak  to  him  as  you  have  to  me  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  have  you  not  some  one  else  to  think 
of  ?    Leave  my  lord  to  me." 

"  Some  one  else  ?  "  she  repeated. 

"  Your  husband,"  said  I.  She  looked  at  me  with  a  coun- 
tenance illegible.  "  Are  you  going  to  turn  your  back  on 
him  ? "  I  asked. 

Still  she  looked  at  me  ;  then  her  hand  went  to  her  heart 
aaain.    "  No,"  said  she. 


1 1 6  THE  MA  STER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

"  God  bless  you  for  that  word  !  "  I  Said.  "  Go  to  him 
now  where  he  sits  in  the  hall ;  speak  to  him — it  matters  not 
what  you  say  ;  give  him  your  hand  ;  say,  *  I  know  all '; — 
if  God  gives  you  grace  enough,  say,  *  Forgive  me/  " 

"  God  strengthen  you,  and  make  you  merciful,"  said  she. 
"  I  will  go  to  my  husband." 

"  Let  me  light  you  there,"  said  I,  taking  up  the  candle. 

"  I  will  find  my  way  in  the  dark,"  she  said  with  a  shud- 
der, and  I  think  the  shudder  was  at  me. 

So  we  separated,  she  downstairs  to  where  a  little  light 
glimmered  in  the  hall-door,  I  along  the  passage  to  my  lord's 
room.  I  seems  hard  to  say  why,  but  I  could  not  burst  in 
on  the  old  man  as  I  could  on  the  young  woman  ;  withwhat- 
,ever  reluctance,  I  must  knock.  But  his  old  slumbers  were 
light,  or  perhaps  he  slept  not ;  and  at  the  first  summons  I 
was  bidden  enter. 

He  too  sat  up  in  bed  ;  very  aged  and  bloodless  he 
looked  ;  and  whereas  he  had  a  certain  largeness  of  appear- 
ance when  dressed  for  daylight,  he  now  seemed  frail  and 
little,  and  his  face  (the-  wig  being  laid  aside)  not  bigger 
'than  a  child's.  This  daunted  me  ;  nor  less,  the  haggard 
surmise  of  misfortune  in  his  eye.  Yet  his  voice  was  even 
peaceful  as  he  inquired  my  errand.  I  set  my  candle  dowii 
upon  a  chair,  leaned  on  thebedfoot,  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Lord  Durrisdeer,"  said  I,  "  it  is  very  well  known  to  you 
that  I  am  a  partisan  in  your  family." 

"  I  hope  we  are  none  of  us  partisans,"  said  he.  "  That 
you  love  my  son  sincerely,  I  have  al\vays  been  glad  to  recog- 
nize." 

"  O,  my  lord,  we  are  past  the  hour  of  these  civilities,"  I 
replied.  '*  If  we  are  to  save  anything  out  of  the  fire,  we 
must  look  the  fact  in  its  bare  countenance.  A  partisan  I  am  ; 
partisans  we  have  all  been  ;  it  is  as  a  partisan  that  I  am 
here  in  the  middle  of  the  night  to  plead  before  you.  Hear 
me  ;  before  I  go,  I  will  tell  you  why." 


THE  NIGHT  OF  FEBR  UAR  Y  27.  1 1 7 

'<  I  would  always  hear  you,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  said  he, 
**  and  that  at  any  hour,  whether  of  the  day  or  night,  for  I 
would  be  always  sure  you  had  a  reason.  You  spoke  once 
before  to  very  proper  purpose ;  I  have  not  forgotten 
that." 

"  I  am  here  to  plead  the  cause  of  my  master,"  I  said.  "I 
need  not  tell  you  how  he  acts.  You  know  how  he  is  placed. 
You  know  with  what  generosity  he  has  always  met  your 
other — met  your  wishes,"  I  corrected  myself,  stumbling  at 
that  name  of  son.  *'  You  knpw — you  must  know — what  he 
has  suffered — what  he  has  suffered  about  his  wife." 

"  Mr.  Mackellar  !  "  cried  my  lord,  rising  in  bed  like  a 
bearded  lion. 

"  You  said  you  would  hear  me,"  I  continued.  "What 
you  do  not  know,  what  you  should  know,  one  of  the  things 
I  am  here  to  speak  of — is  the  persecution  he  must  bear  in 
private.  Your  back  is  not  turned,  before  one  whom  I  dare 
not  name  to  you  falls  upon  him  with  the  most  unfeeling 
taunts  ;  twits  him — pardon  me,  my  lord  !  twits  him  with 
your  partiality,  calls  him  Jacob,  calls  him  clown,  pursues  him 
with  ungenerous  raillery,  not  to  be  borne  by  man.  And  let 
but  one  of  you  appear,  instantly  he  changes  ;  and  my  mas- 
ter must  smile  and  courtesy  to  the  man  who  has  been  feed- 
ing him  with  insults  ;  I  know — for  I  have  shared  in  some  of 
it,  and  I  tell  you  the  life  is  insupportable.  All  these  months 
it  has  endured  ;  it  began  with  the  man's  landing ;  it  was  by 
the  name  of  Jacob  that  my  master  was  greeted  the  first 
night." 

My  lord  made  a  movement  as  if  to  throw  aside  the 
clothes  and  rise.     "  If  there  be  any  truth  in  this — "  said  he. 

"  Do  I  look  like  a  man  lying  ?  "  I  interrupted,  checking 
him  with  my  hand. 

"  You  should  have  told  me  at  first."  he  said. 

"  Ah,  my  lord,  indeed  I  should,  and  you  may  well  hate  the 
face  of  this  unfaithful  servant !  "  I  cried. 


Il8  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

"  I  will  take  order,"  said  he,  "  at  once."  And  again  made 
the  movement  to  rise. 

Again  I  checked  him.  "I  have  not  done,"  said  I. 
*' Would  God  I  had  !  All  this  my  dear,  unfortunate  patron 
has  endured  without  help  or  countenance.  Your  own  best 
word,  my  lord,  was  only  gratitude.  Oh,  but  he  was  your 
son,  too  !  He  had  no  other  father.  He  was  hated  in  the 
country,  God  knows  how  unjustly.  He  had  a  loveless  mar- 
riage. He  stood  on  all  hands  without  affection  or  support, 
dear,  generous,  ill-fated,  noble  heart." 

"  Your  tears  do  you  much  honor  and  me  much  shame," 
says  my  lord,  with  a  palsied  trembling.  "  But  you  do  met 
some  injustice.  Henry  has  been  ever  dear  to  me,  very 
dear.  James  (I  do  not  deny  it,  Mr.  Mackellar),  James  is 
perhaps  dearer ;  you  have  not  seen  my  James  in  quite  a 
favorable  light  ;  he  has  suffered  under  his  misfortunes  ;  and 
we  can  only  remember  how  great  and  how  unmerited  these 
were.  And  even  now  his  is  the  more  affectionate  nature. 
But  I  will  not  speak  of  him.  All  that  you  say  of  Henry  is 
most  true  ;  I  do  not  wonder,  I  know  him  to  be  very  mag- 
nanimous ;  you  will  say  I  trade  upon  the  knowledge?  It  is 
possible  ;  there  are  dangerous  virtues  ;  virtues  that  tempt 
the  encroacher.  Mr.  Mackellar,  I  will  make  it  up  to  him  ; 
I  will  take  order  with  all  this.  I  have  been  weak  ;  and 
what  is  worse,  I  have  been  dull." 

"  I  must  not  hear  you  blame  yourself,  my  lord,  with  that 
which  I  have  yet  to  tell  upon  my  conscience,"  I  replied. 
**You  have  not  been  weak;  you  have  been  abused  by  a 
devilish  dissembler.  You  saw  yourself  how  he  had  de- 
ceived you  in  the  matter  of  his  danger  ;  he  has  deceived 
you  throughout  in  every  step  of  his  career.  I  wish  to  pluck 
him  from  your  heart ;  I  wish  to  force  your  eyes  upon  your 
other  son  ;  ah,  you  have  a  son  there  !  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  he,  **  two  sons — I  have  two  sons." 

I   made  some   gesture  of  despair  that  struck  him ;  he 


THE  NIGHT  OF  FEBRUARY  27.  II9 

looked  at  me  with  a  changed  face.  *'  There  is  much  worse 
behind  ? "  he  asked,  his  voice  dying  as  it  rose  upon  the 
question. 

"  Much  worse,"  I  answered.  "  This  night  he  said  these 
words  to  Mr.  Henry  :  *  I  have  never  known  a  woman  who 
did  not  prefer  me  to  you,  and  I  think  who  did  not  continue 
to  prefer  me.' " 

"  I  will  hear  nothing  against  my  daughter,"  he  cried  ; 
and  from  his  readiness  to  stop  me  in  this  direction,  I 
conclude  his  eyes  were  not  so  dull  as  I  had  fancied,  and 
he  had  looked  on  not  without  anxiety  upon  the  siege  of 
Mrs.  Henry. 

"  I  think  not  of  blaming  her,"  cried  I.  "  It  is  not  that. 
These  words  were  said  in  my  hearing  to  Mr.  Henry  ;  and 
if  you  find  them  not  yet  plain  enough,  these  others  but  a 
little  after  :  '  Your  wife  who  is  in  love  with  me.'  " 

"  They  have  quarreled  ? "  he  said. 

I  nodded. 

"  I  must  fly  to  them,"  he  said,  beginning  once  again  to 
leave  his  bed. 

"  No,  no  !  "  I  cried,  holding  forth  my  hands. 

"You  do  not  know,"  said  he.  "These  are  dangerous 
words." 

"  Will  nothing  make  you  understand,  my  lord  ? "  said  I. 

His  eyes  besought  me  for  the  truth. 

I  flung  myself  on  my  knees  by  the  bedside.  "  O  my 
lord,"  cried  I,  "  think  on  him  you  have  left,  think  of  this 
poor  sinner  whom  you  begot,  whom  your  wife  bore  to  you, 
whom  we  have  none  of  us  strengthened  as  we  could  ;  think 
of  him,  not  of  yourself  ;  he  is  the  other  sufferer — think  of 
him  !  That  is  the  door  for  sorrow,  Christ's  door,  God's 
door  :  O,  it  stands  open.  Think  of  him,  even  as  he  thought 
of  you.  Who  is  to  tell  the  old  man  ? — these  were  his  words. 
It  was  for  that  I  came  ;  that  is  why  I  am  here  pleading  at 
your  feet." 


I20  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"  Let  me  get  up,"  he  cried,  thrusting  me  aside,  and  was 
on  his  feet  before  myself.  His  voice  shook  like  a  sail  in 
the  wind,  yet  he  spoke  with  a  good  loudness  ;  his  face  was 
like  the  snow,  but  his  eyes  were  steady  and  dry.  *'  Here  is 
too  much  speech  !  "  said  he.     "  Where  was  it  ?  " 

"  In  the  shrubbery,"  said  I. 

"  And  Mr.  Henry  ? "  he  asked.  And  when  I  had  told 
him  he  knotted  his  old  face  in  thought. 

*'  And  Mr.  James  ? "  says  he. 

"  I  have  left  him  lying,"  said  I,  "  beside  the  candles." 

"  Candles?"  he  cried.  And  with  that  he  ran  to  the  win- 
dow, opened  it,  and  looked  abroad.  "  It  might  be  spied 
from  the  road." 

"  Where  none  goes  by  at  such  an  hour,"  I  objected. 

"  It  makes  no  matter,"  he  said.  "  One  might.  Hark  !  " 
cries  he.     "  What  is  that  ?  " 

It  was  the  sound  of  men  very  guardedly  rowing  in  the 
bay  ;    and  I  told  him  so. 

"  The  freetraders,"  said  my  lord.  ''  Run  at  once,  Mac- 
kellar,  put  these  candles  out.  I  will  dress  in  the  mean 
while ;  and  when  you  return  we  can  debate  on  what  is 
wisest." 

I  groped  my  way  downstairs,  and  out  at  the  door.  From 
quite  a  far  way  off  a  sheen  was  visible,  making  points  of 
brightness  in  the  shrubbery  ;  in  so  black  a  night  it  might 
have  been  remarked  for  miles  ;  and  I  blamed  myself  bit- 
terly for  my  incaution  :  How  much  more  sharply  when  I 
reached  the  place  !  One  of  the  candlesticks  was  over- 
thrown, and  that  taper  quenched.  The  other  burned 
steadily  by  itself,  and  made  a  broad  space  of  light  upon  the 
frosted  ground.  All  within  that  circle  seemed,  by  the  force 
of  contrast  and  the  overhanging  blackness,  brighter  than 
by  day.  And  there  was  the  bloodstain  in  the  midst  ;  and  a 
little  further  off  Mr.  Henry's  sword,  the  pommel  of  which 
was  of  silver  ;  but  of  the  body,  not  a  trace.     My  heart 


THE  NIGHT  OF  FERR  UAR  F  27.  121 

thumped  upon  my  ribs,  the  hair  stirred  upon  my  scalp,  as  I 
stood  there  staring  ;  so  strange  was  the  sight,  so  dire  the 
fears  it  wakened.  I  looked  right  and  left ;  the  ground  was 
so  hard  it  told  no  story.  I  stood  and  listened  till  my  ears 
ached,  but  the  night  was  hollow  about  me  like  an  empty 
church  ;  not  even  a  ripple  stirred  upon  the  shore  ;  it  seemed 
you  might  have  heard  a  pin  drop  in  the  county. 

I  put  the  candle  out,  and  the  blackness  fell  about  me 
groping  dark  ;  it  was  like  a  crowd  surrounding  me  ;  and  I 
went  back  to  the  house  of  Durrisdeer,  with  my  chin  upon 
my  shoulder,  startling,  as  I  went,  with  craven  suppositions. 
In  the  door  a  figure  moved  to  meet  me,  and  I  had  near 
screamed  with  terror  ere  I  recognized  Mrs.  Henry. 

"  Have  you  told  him  ? "  says  she. 

"  It  was  he  who  sent  me,"  said  I.  "  It  is  gone.  But  why 
are  you  here  ? " 

"  It  is  gone  !  "  she  repeated.     **  What  is  gone  ?  " 

"  The  body,"  said  I.  "  Why  are  you  not  with  your 
husband  ? " 

"  Gone  ?  "  said  she.  "  You  cannot  have  looked.  Come 
back." 

"  There  is  no  light  now,"  said  I.     "I  dare  not." 

"  I  can  see  in  the  dark.  I  have  been  standing  here  so 
long — so  long,"  said  she.     "  Come  ;  give  me  your  hand." 

We  returned  to  the  shrubbery  hand  in  hand,  and  to  the 
fatal  place. 

"  Take  care  of  the  blood,"  said  I. 

**  Blood  ? "  she  cried,  and  started  violently  back. 

"  I  suppose  it  will  be,"  said  I.     "  I  am  like  a  blind  man." 

"  No,"  said  she,  "  nothing  !     Have  you  not  dreamed  ?  " 

"Ah,  would  to  God  we  had  !  "  cried  I. 

She  spied  the  sword,  picked  it  up,  and,  seeing  the  blood, 
let  it  fall  again  with  her  hands  thrown  wide.  "  Ah  !  "  she 
cried.  And  then,  with  an  instant  courage,  handled  it  the 
second  time  and  thrust  it  to  the  hilt  into  the  frozen  ground. 


122  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"  I  will  take  it  back  and  clean  it  properly,"  says  she,  and 
again  looked  about  her  on  all  sides.  "  It  cannot  be  that  he 
was  dead  ?  "  she  added. 

"  There  was  no  flutter  of  his  heart,"  said  I,  and  then 
remembering  :  "  Why  are  you  not  with  your  husband  ?" 

"  It  is  no  use,"  said  she,  "  he  will  not  speak  to  me." 

"  Not  speak  to  you  ? "  I  repeated.  *'  O,  you  have  not 
tried  !  " 

"  You  have  a  right  to  doubt  me,"  she  replied,  with  a  gentle 
dignity. 

At  this,  for  the  first  time,  I  was  seized  with  sorrow  for  her. 
"  God  knows,  madam,"  I  cried,  ''  God  knows  I  am  not  so 
hard  as  I  appear  ;  on  this  dreadful  night,  who  can  veneer 
his  words  ?  But  I  am  a  friend  to  all  who  are  not  Henry 
Durie's  enemies  !  " 

"  It  is  hard,  then,  you  should  hesitate  about  his  wife," 
said  she. 

I  saw  all  at  once,  like  the  rending  of  a  veil,  how  nobly 
she  had  borne  this  unnatural  calamity,  and  how  generously 
my  reproaches. 

<*  We  must  go  back  and  tell  this  to  my  lord,"  said  I. 

"  Him  I  cannot  face,"  she  cried. 

"You  will  find  him  the  least  moved  of  all  of  us,"  said  I. 

"And  yet  I  cannot  face  him,"  said  she. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  you  can  return  to  Mr.  Henry  ;  I  will 
see  my  lord." 

As  we  walked  back,  I  bearing  the  candlesticks,  she  the 
sword, — a  strange  burthen  for  that  woman, — she  had  another 
thought.     "  Should  we  tell  Henry  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Let  my  lord  decide,"  said  I. 

My  lord  was  nearly  dressed  when  I  came  to  his  chamber. 
He  heard  me  with  a  frown.  "  The  freetraders,"  said  he. 
"  But  whether  dead  or  alive?" 

"  I  thought  him — "  said  I,  and  paused,  ashamed  of  the 
word. 


THE  NIGHT  OF  FEBR UAR  F  27.  123 

"  I  know ;  but  you  may  very  well  have  been  in  error. 
Why  should  they  remove  him  if  not  living?"  he  asked. 
"  O,  here  is  a  great  door  of  hope.  It  must  be  given  out 
that  he  departed — as  he  came — without  any  note  of  prep- 
aration.    We  must  save  all  scandal." 

I  saw  he  had  fallen,  like  the  rest  of  us,  to  think  mainly  of 
the  house.  Now  that  all  the  living  members  of  the  family 
were  plunged  in  irremediable  sorrow,  it  was  strange  how 
we  turned  to  that  conjoint  abstraction  of  the  family  itself, 
and  sought  to  bolster  up  the  airy  nothing  of  its  reputation  : 
not  the  Duries  only,  but  the  hired  steward  himself. 

"  Are  we  to  tell  Mr.  Henry  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  I  will  see,"  said  he.  "  I  am  going  first  to  visit  him, 
then  I  go  forth  with  you  to  view  the  shrubbery  and  consider." 

We  went  downstairs  into  the  hall.  Mr.  Henry  sat  by  the 
table  with  his  head  upon  his  hand,  like  a  man  of  stone. 
His  wife  stood  a  little  back  from  him,  her  hand  at  her 
mouth  ;  it  was  plain  she  could  not  move  him.  My  old  lord 
walked  very  steadily  to  where  his  son  was  sitting  ;  he  had 
a  steady  countenance,  too,  but  methought  a  little  cold ; 
when  he  was  come  quite  up,  he  held  out  both  his  hands  and 
said  :  "  My  son  !  " 

With  a  broken,  strangled  cry,  Mr.  Henry  leaped  up  and 
fell  on  his  father's  neck,  crying  and  weeping,  the  most  piti- 
ful sight  that  ever  a  man  witnessed.  "  O  father,"  he  cried, 
*'  you  know  I  loved  him  ;  you  know  I  loved  him  in  the 
beginning  ;  I  could  have  died  for  him — you  know  that !  I 
would  have  given  my  life  for  him  and  you.  O  say  you  know 
that  !  O  say  you  can  forgive  me  !  O  father,  father,  what 
have  I  done,  what  have  I  done  ?  and  we  used  to  be  bairns 
together  !  "  and  wept  and  sobbed,  and  fondled  the  old  man, 
and  clutched  him  about  the  neck,  with  the  passion  of  a 
child  in  terror. 

And  then  he  caught  sight  of  his  wife,  you  would  have 
thought  for  the  first  time,  where  she  stood  weeping  to  hear 


124  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

him  ;  and  in  a  moment  had  fallen  at  her  knees.  *'  And  O 
my  lass,"  he  cried,  *'  you  must  forgive  me,  too  !  Not  your 
husband — I  have  only  been  the  ruin  of  your  life.  But  you 
knew  me  when  I  was  a  lad  ;  there  was  no  harm  in  Henry 
Durie  then  ;  he  meant  aye  to  be  a  friend  to  you.  It's  him — 
it's  the  old  bairn  that  pla)^ed  with  you — O  can  ye  never, 
never  forgive  him?  " 

Throughout  all  this  my  lord  was  like  a  cold,  kind  specta- 
tor with  his  wits  about  him.  At  the  first  cry,  which  was 
indeed  enough  tc  call  the  house  about  us,  he  had  said  to 
me  over  his  shoulder,  "  Close  the  door."  And  now  he 
nodded  to  himself. 

"  We  may  leave  him  to  his  wife  now,"  says  he.  "  Bring 
a  light,  Mr.  Mackellar." 

Upon  my  going  forth  again  with  my  lord,  I  was  aware  of 
a  strange  phenomenon  ;  for  though  it  was  quite  dark,  and 
the  night  not  yet  old,  methought  I  smelt  the  morning.  At 
the  same  time  there  went  a  tossing  through  the  branches  of 
the  evergreens,  so  that  they  sounded  like  a  quiet  sea  ;  and 
the  air  puffed  at  times  against  our  faces,  and  the  flame  of 
the  candle  shook.  We  m^ade  the  more  speed,  I  believe, 
being  surrounded  by  this  bustle  ;  visited  the  scene  of  the 
duel,  where  my  lord  looked  upon  the  blood  with  stoicism  ; 
and  passing  farther  on  toward  the  landing-place,  came  at 
last  upon  some  evidences  of  the  truth.  For  first  of  all, 
where  there  was  a  pool  across  the  path,  the  ice  had  been 
trodden  in,  plainly  by  more  than  one  man's  weight ;  next, 
and  but  a  little  further,  a  young  tree  was  broken  ;  and  down 
by  the  landing-place,  where  the  trader's  boats  were  usually 
beached,  another  stain  of  blood  marked  where  the  body 
must  have  been  infallibly  set  down  to  rest  the  bearers. 

This  stain  we  set  ourselves  to  wash  away  with  the  sea- 
water,  carrying  it  in  my  lord's  hat ;  and  as  we  were  thus 
engaged,  there  came  up  a  sudden,  moaning  gust  and  left  us 
instantly  benighted.  - 


THE  NIGHT  OF  FEBk UAR  F  27.  125 

♦*  It  will  come  to  snow,"  says  my  lord  ;  "  and  the  best 
thing  that  we  could  hope.  Let  us  go  back  now  ;  we  can  do 
nothing  in  the  dark." 

As  we  went  houseward,  the  wind  being  again  subsided, 
we  were  aware  of  a  strong  pattering  noise  about  us  in  the 
night  ;  and  when  we  issued  from  the  shelter  of  the  trees, 
we  found  it  raining  smartly. 

Throughout  the  whole  of  this,  my  lord's  clearness  of 
mind,  no  less  than  his  activity  of  body,  had  not  ceased  to 
minister  to  my  amazement.  He  set  the  crown  upon  it  in 
the  council  we  held  on  our  return.  The  freetraders  had  I 
certainly  secured  the  Master,  though  whether  dead  or  alive  ) 
we  were  still  left  to  our  conjectures  ;  the  rain  would,  long 
before  day,  wipe  out  all  marks  of  the  transaction  ;  by  this 
we  must  profit  :  the  Master  had  unexpectedly  come  after 
the  fall  of  night,  it  must  now  be  given  out  he  had  as  sud- 
denly departed  before  the  break  of  day  ;  and  to  make  all 
this  plausible,  it  now  only  remained  for  me  to  mount  into 
the  man's  chamber,  and  pack  and  conceal  his  baggage. 
True,  we  still  lay  at  the  discretion  of  the  traders  ;  but  that 
was  the  incurable  weakness  of  our  guilt. 

I  heard  him,  as  I  said,  with  wonder,  and  hastened  to 
obey.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  were  gone  from  the  hall  ;  my 
lord,  for  warmth's  sake,  hurried  to  his  bed  ;  there  was  still 
no  sign  of  stir  among  the  servants,  and  as  I  went  up  the 
tower  stair,  and  entered  the  dead  man's  room,  a  horror  of 
solitude  weighed  upon  my  mind.  To  my  extreme  surprise, 
it  was  all  in  the  disorder  of  departure.  Of  his  three  port- 
manteaux, two  were  ready  locked,  the  third  lay  open  and 
near  full.  At  once  there  flashed  upon  me  some  suspicion 
of  the  truth.  The  man  had  been  going  after  all  ;  he  had  ^j 
but  waited  upon  Crail,  as  Crail  waited  upon  the  wind  ;  early 
in  the  night,  the  seamen  had  perceived  the  weather  chang-,] 
ing ;  the  boat  had  come  to  give  notice  of  the  change  and 
call  the  passenger  aboard,  and  the  boat's  crew  had  stumbled 


126  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

on  him  lying  in  his  blood.     Nay,  and  there  was  more  behind. 

/This  prearranged  departure  shed  some  light  upon  his  incon- 
ceivable insult  of  the  night  before  ;  it  was  a  parting  shot  ; 
hatred  being  no  longer  checked  by  policy.  And  for  another 
thing,  the  nature  of  that  insult,  and  the  conduct  of  Mrs. 
Henry,  pointed  to  one  conclusion, — which  I  have  never  ver- 
ified and  can  now  never  verify  until  the  great  assize  ;  the 
conclusion  that  he  had  at  last  forgotten  himself,  had  gone 
too  far  in  his  advances,  and  had  been  rebuffed.  It  can 
never  be  verified,  as  I  say  ;  but  as  I  thought  of  it  that 
morning  among  his  baggage,  the  thought  was  sweet  to 
me  like  honey. 

Into  the  open  portmanteau  I  dipped  a  little  ere  I  closed 
it.  The  most  beautiful  lace  and  linen,  many  suits  of  those 
fine  plain  clothes  in  which  he  loved  to  appear  ;  a  book  or 
two,  and  those  of  the  best,  Caesar's  "  Commentaries,"  a 
volume  of  Mr,  Hobbes,  the  "  Henriade  "  of  M.  de  Voltaire, 
a  book  upon  the  Indies,  one  on  the  mathematics,  far  beyond 
where  I  have  studied  :  these  were  what  I  observed  with  very 
mingled  feelings.  But  in  the  open  portmanteau,  no  papers 
of  any  description.     This  set  me  musing.     It  was  possible 

■  the  man  was  dead  ;  but,  since  the  traders  had  carried  him 
away,  not  likely.  It  was  possible  he  might  still  die  of  his 
wound  ;  but  it  was  also  possible  he  might  not.  And  in  this 
latter  case  I  was  determined  to  have  the  means  of  some 
defense. 

One  after  another  I  carried  his  portmanteaux  to  a  loft  in 
the  top  of  the  house  which  we  kept  locked  ;  went  to  my 
own  room  for  my  keys,  and,  returning  to  the  "loft,  had  the 
gratification  to  find  two  that  fitted  pretty  well.  In  one  of 
the  portmanteaux  there  was  a  shagreen  letter-case,  which  I 
cut  open  with  my  knife  ;  and  thenceforth  (so  far  as  any 
credit  went)  the  man  was  at  my  mercy.  Here  was  a  vast 
deal  of  gallant  correspondence,  chiefly  of  his  Paris  days ; 
and  what  was  more  to  the  purpose,  here  were  the  copies  of 


THE  NIGHT  OF  FEBR  UAR  Y  21.  127 

his  own  reports  to  the  English  secretary,  and  the  originals 
of  the  secretary's  answers  :  a  most  damning  series  :  such 
as  to  publish  would  be  to  wreck  the  Master's  honor  and  to  setv 
a  price  upon  his  life.  I  chuckled  to  myself  as  I  ran  through 
the  documents  ;  1  rubbed  my  hands,  I  sang  aloud  in  my 
glee.  Day  found  me  at  the  pleasing  task  ;  nor  did  I  then 
remit  my  diligence,  except  in  so  far  as  I  went  to  the  win- 
dow— looked  out  for  a  moment,  to  see  the  frost  quite  gone, 
the  world  turned  black  again,  and  the  rain  and  the  wind 
driving  in  the  bay — and  to  assure  myself  that  the  lugger 
was  gone  from  its  anchorage,  and  the  Master  (whether  dead 
or  alive)  now  tumbling  on  the  Irish  Sea. 

It  is  proper  I  should  add  in  this  place  the  very  little  I 
have  subsequently  angled  out  upon  the  doings  of  that  night. 
It  took  me  a  long  while  to  gather  it  ;  for  we  dared  not 
openly  ask,  and  the  freetraders  regarded  me  with  enmity,  if 
not  with  scorn.  It  was  near  six  months  before  we  even 
knew  for  certain  that  the  man  survived  ;  and  it  was  years 
before  I  learned  from  one  of  Crail's  men,  turned  publican 
on  his  ill-gotten  gain,  some  particulars  which  smack  to  me 
of  truth.  It  seems  the  traders  found  the  Master  struggled 
on  one  elbow,  and  now  staring  round  him,  and  now  gazing 
at  the  candle  or  at  his  hand  which  was  all  bloodied,  like  a 
man  stupid.  Upon  their  coming,  he  would  seem  to  have 
found  his  mind,  bade  them  carry  him  aboard  and  hold  their 
tongues  ;  and  on  the  captain  asking  how  he  had  come  in 
such  a  pickle,  replied  with  a  burst  of  passionate  swearing, 
and  incontinently  fainted.  They  held  some  debate,  but 
they  were  momently  looking  for  a  wind,  they  were  highly\ 
paid  to  smuggle  him  to  France,  and  did  not  care  to  delay .^' 
Besides  which,  he  was  well  enough  liked  by  these  abomin- 
able wretches  :  they  supposed  him  under  capital  sentence, 
knew  not  in  what  mischief  he  might  have  got  his  wound, 
and  judged  it  a  piece  of  good-nature  to  remove  him  out  of 
the  way  of  danger.     So  he  was  taken  aboard,  recovered  on 


128  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

the  passage  over,  and  was  set  ashore  a  convalescent  at  the 
Havre  de  Grace.  What  is  truly  notable  :  he  said  not  a  word 
to  any  one  of  the  duel,  and  not  a  trader  knows  to  this  day 
in  what  quarrel,  or  by  the  hand  of  what  adversary,  he  fell. 
With  any  other  man  I  should  have  set  this  down  to  natural 
decency  ;  with  him,  to  pride.  He  could  not  bear  to  avow, 
perhaps  even  to  himself,  that  he  had  been  vanquished  by 
one  whom  he  had  so  much  insulted  and  whom  he  so  cruelly 
despised.  ^ 


SUMMARY  OF  EVENTS  DURING  THE  MASTER'S 
SECOND  ABSENCE. 

Of  the  heavy  sickness  which  declared  itself  next  morn- 
ing, I  can  think  with  equanimity  as  of  the  last  unmingled 
trouble  that  befell  my  master  ;  and  even  that  was  perhaps 
a  mercy  in  disguise  ;  for  what  pains  of  the  body  could  equal 
the  miseries  of  his  mind  ?  Mrs.  Henry  and  I  had  the  watch- 
ing by  the  bed.  My  old  lord  called  from  time  to  time  to 
take  the  news,  but  would  not  usually  pass  the  door.  Once, 
I  remember,  when  hope  was  nigh  gone,  he  stepped  to  the 
bedside,  looked  awhile  in  his  son's  face,  and  turned  away 
with  a  singular  gesture  of  the  head  and  hand  thrown  up, 
that  remains  upon  my  mind  as  something  tragic  ;  such  grief 
and  such  a  scorn  of  sublunary  things  were  there  expressed. 
But  the  most  of  the  time,  Mrs.  Henry  and  I  had  the  room 
to  ourselves,  taking  turns  by  night  and  bearing  each  other 
company  by  day,  for  it  was  dreary  watching.  Mr.  Henry, 
his  shaven  head  bound  in  a  napkin,  tossed  to  and  fro  with- 
out remission,  beating  the  bed  with  his  hands.  His  tongue 
never  lay  ;  his  voice  ran  continuously  like  a  river,  so  that 
my  heart  was  weary  with  the  sound  of  it.  It  was  notable, 
and  to  me  inexpressibly  mortifying,  that  he  spoke  all  the 
while  on  matters  of  no  import  :  comings  and  goings, 
horses — which  he  was  ever  calling  to  have  saddled,  thinking 
perhaps  (the  poor  soul  !)  that  he  might  ride  away  from  his 
discomfort — matters  of  the  garden,  the  salmon  nets,  and 
(what  I  particularly  raged  to  hear)  continually  of  his  affairs, 
cyphering  figures  and  holding  disputation  with  the  tenantry. 
Never  a  word  of  his  father  or  his  wife,  nor  of  the  Master, 
save  only  for  a  day  or  two,  when  his  mind  dwelled  entirely 

129 


130  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

in  the  past  and  he  supposed  himself  a  boy  again  and  upon 
some  innocent  child's  play  with  his  brother.  What  made 
this  the  more  affecting  :  it  appeared  the  Master  had  then 
run  some  peril  of  his  life,  for  there  was  a  cry — "  O,  Jamie 
will  be  drowned^O,  save  Jamie  !  "  which  he  came  over 
and  over  with  a  great  deal  of  passion. 

This,  I  say,  was  affecting,  both  to  Mrs.  Henry  and  my- 
self ;  but  the  balance  of  my  master's  wanderings  did  him 
little  justice.  It  seemed  he  had  set  out  to  justify  his 
brother's  calumnies  ;  as  though  he  was  bent  to  prove  him- 
self a  man  of  a  dry  nature,  immersed  in  money-getting. 
Had  I  been  there  alone,  I  would  not  have  troubled  m.y 
thumb  ;  but  all  the  while,  as  I  listened,  I  was  estimating 
the  effect  on  the  man's  wife,  and  telling  myself  that  he  fell 
lower  every  day.  I  was  the  one  person  on  the  surface  of 
the  globe  that  comprehended  him,  and  I  was  bound  there 
should  be  yet  another.  Whether  he  was  to  die  there  and 
his  virtues  perish  ;  or  whether  he  should  save  his  days  and 
come  back  to  that  inheritance  of  sorrows,  his  right  memory  : 
I  was  bound  he  should  be  heartily  lamented  in  the  one  case 
and  unaffectedly  welcomed  in  the  other,  by  the  person  he 
loved  the  most,  his  wife. 

Finding  no  occasion  of  free  speech,  I  bethought  me  at 
last  of  a  kind  of  documentary  disclosure  ;  and  for  some 
nights,  when  I  was  off  duty  and  should  have  been  asleep,  I 
gave  my  time  to  the  preparation  of  that  which  I  may  call 
my  budget.  But  this  I  found  to  be  the  easiest  portion  of 
my  task,  and  that  which  remained,  namely  the  presentation 
to  my  lady,  almost  more  than  I  had  fortitude  to  overtake. 
Several  days  I  went  about  with  my  papers  under  my  arm, 
spying  for  some  juncture  of  talk  to  serve  as  introduction. 
I  will  not  deny  but  that  some  offered  ;  only  when  they  did, 
my  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth  ;  and  I  think  I 
might  have  been  carrying  about  my  packet  till  this  day,  had 
not  a  fortunate  accident  delivered  me  from  all  my  hesita- 


THE  MASTER'S  SECOND  ABSENCE.  131 

tions.  This  was  at  night,  when  I  was  once  more  leaving  the 
room,  the  thing  not  yet  done,  and  myself  in  despair  at  my 
own  cowardice. 

"What  do  you  carry  about  with  you,  Mr.  Mackellar?" 
she  asked.  "  These  last  days,  I  see  you  always  coming  in 
and  out  with  the  same  armful." 

I  returned  upon  my  steps  without  a  word,  laid  the  papers 
before  her  on  the  table,  and  left  her  to  her  reading.  Of 
what  that  was,  I  am  now  to  give  you  some  idea  ;  an^^  the 
best  will  be  to  reproduce  a  letter  of  my  own  which  came 
first  in  the  budget  and  of  which  (according  to  an  excellent 
habitude)  I  have  preserved  the  scroll.  It  will  show  too  the 
moderation  of  my  part  in  these  affairs,  a  thing  which  some 
have  called  recklessly  in  question. 

**  Durrisdeer. 

"1757. 
"  Honored  Madam, 

"  I  trust  1  would  not  step  out  of  my  place  without  occasion  ; 
but  I  see  how  much  evil  has  flowed  in  the  past  to  all  of 
your  noble  house  from  that  unhappy  and  secretive  fault  of 
reticency,  and  the  papers  on  which  I  venture  to  call  your 
attention  are  family  papers  and  all  highly  worthy  your 
acquaintance. 

"  I  append  a  schedule  with  some  necessary  observations, 
"  And  am, 

*'  Honored  Madam, 
"  Your  ladyship's  obliged,  obedient  servant, 

"  Ephraim  Mackellar. 

*  Schedule  of  Papers. 

"A.  Scroll  of  ten  letters  from  Ephraim  Mackellar  to  the 
Hon. James  Durie,  Esq.,  by  courtesy  Master  of  Baliantrae, 
during  the  latter's  residence  in  Paris  :  under  dates  .  .  ." 
{follow  the  dates)  .  .  .  .  "  Nota  :  to  be  read  in  connection 
with  B.  and  C. 

"  B.  Seven  original  letters  from  the  said  M"^  of  Baliantrae 
to  said  E.  Mackellar,  under  dates  .  .  .  ."  {follow  the  dates). 

"  C.  Three  original  letters  from  the  said  M"^  of  Baliantrae 
to  the  Hon.  Henry  Durie,  Esq.,  under  dates  .  .  .  ."  (/?/• 


132  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE.    - 

low  the  dates)  .  .  .  .  "  Nota :  given  me  by  Mr.  Henry  to 
answer  :  copies  of  my  answers  A  4,  A  5,  and  A  9  of  these 
productions.  The  purport  of  Mr.  Henry's  communications, 
of  which  I  can  find  no  scroll,  may  be  gathered  from  those 
of  his  unnatural  brother. 

"  D.  A  correspondence,  original  and  scroll,  extending 
over  a  period  of  three  years  till  January  of  the  current  year, 

between  the  said   M""  of  Ballantrae  and  -^ ,  Under 

Secretary  of  State ;  twenty-seven  in  all.  Nota :  found 
among  the  Master's  papers." 

Weary  as  I  was  with  watching  and  distress  of  mind,  it 
was  impossible  for  me  to  sleep.  All  night  long,  I  walked 
in  my  chamber,  revolving  what  should  be  the  issue  and 
sometimes  repenting  the  temerity  of  my  immixture  in  affairs 
so  private  ;  and  with  the  first  peep  of  the  morning,  I  was  at 
the  sick-room  door.  Mrs.  Henry  had  thrown  open  the 
shutters  and  even  the  window,  for  the  temperature  was  mild. 
She  looked  steadfastly  before  her  ;  where  was  nothing  to 
see,  or  only  the  blue  of  the  morning  creeping  among  woods. 
Upon  the  stir  of  my  entrance,  she  did  not  so  much  as  turn 
about  her  face  ;  a  circumstance  from  which  I  augured  very  ill. 

"  Madam,"  I  began  ;  and  then  again,  "  Madam  "  ;  but 
could  make  no  more  of  it.  Nor  yet  did  Mrs.  Henry  come 
to  my  assistance  "with  a  word.  In  this  pass  I  began  gathering 
up  the  papers  where  they  lay  scattered  on  the  table  ;  and 
the  first  thing  that  struck  me,  their  bulk  appeared  to  have 
diminished.  Once  I  ran  them  through,  and  twice  ;  but  the 
correspondence  with  the  secretary  of  state,  on  which  I  had 
reckoned  so  much  against  the  future,  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.  I  looked  in  the  chimney  ;  amid  the  smoldering 
embers,  black  ashes  of  paper  fluttered  in  the  draught ;  and 
at  that  my  timidity  vanished. 

"  Good  God,  madam,"  cried  I,  in  a  voice  not  fitting  for  a 
sick-room,  "  Good  God,  Madam,  what  have  you  done  with 
my  papers  ? " 
^ "  I  have  burned  them,"  said  Mrs.  Henry,  turning  about. 


THE  MASTER'S  SECOND  ABSENCE.  133 

"  It  is  enough,  it  is  too  much,  that  you  and  I  have  seen 
them."  ' 

"  This  is  a  fine  night's  work- that  you  have  done  !  "  cried  - 
I.     "  And  all  to  save  the  reputation  of  a  man  that  ate  breads 
by  the  shedding  of  his  comrades'  blood,  as  I   do  by  the 
shedding  ink." 

"  To  save  the  reputation  of  that  family  in  which  you  are 
a  servant,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  she  returned,  "  and  for  which 
you  have  already  done  so  muph." 

"  It  is  a  family  I  will  not  serve  much  longer,"  I  cried, 
"fori  am  driven  desperate.  You  have  stricken  the  sword 
out  of  my  hands  ;  you  have  left  us  all  defenseless  I  had 
always  these  letters  I  could  shake  over  his  head  ;  and  now — 
what  is  to  do?  We  are  so  falsely  situate  we  dare  not 
show  the  man  the  door ;  the  country  would  fly  on  fire 
against  us ;  and  I  had  this  one  hold  upon  him — and  now  it 
is  gone — now  he  may  come  back  to-morrow,  and  we  must 
all  sit  down  with  him  to  dinner,  go  for  a  stroll  with  him  on 
the  terrace,  or  take  a  hand  at  cards,  of  all  things,  to  di- 
vert his  leisure  !  No,  Madam ;  God  forgive  you,  if  he  can 
find  it  in  his  heart  ;  for  I  cannot  find  it  in  mine." 

"  I  wonder  to  find  you  so  simple,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  said 
Mrs.  Henry.  "  What  does  this  man  value  reputation  ?  But 
he  knows  how  high  we  prize  it  ;  he  knows  we  would 
rather  die  than  make  these  letters  public  ;  and  do  you  sup- 
pose he  would  not  trade  upon  the  knowledge  ?  What  you 
call  your  sword,  Mr.  Mackellar,  and  which  had  been  one 
indeed  against  a  man  of  any  remnant  of  propriety,  would 
have  been  but  a  sword  of  paper  against  him.  He  would 
smile  in  your  face  at  such  a  threat.  He  stands  upon  his  ; 
degradation,  he  makes  that  his  strength  ;  it  is  in  vain  to  ^\ 
struggle  with  such  characters."  She  cried  out  this  last  a 
little  desperately,  and  then  with  more  quiet :  "  No,  Mr. 
Mackellar,  I  have  thought  upon  this  matter  all  night,  and 
there  is  no  w^  out  of  it.     Papers  or  no  papers,  the  door  of 


134  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

this  house  stands  open  for  him  ;  he  is  the  rightful  heir, 
forsooth  !  If  we  sought  to  exclude  him,  all  would  redound 
against  poor  Henry,  and  I  should  see  him  stoned  again 
upon  the  streets.  Ah  !  if  Henry  dies,  it  is  a  different  mat- 
ter !  They  have  broke  the  entail  for  their  own  good  pur- 
poses ;  the  estate  goes  to  my  daughter  ;  and  I  shall  see 
who  sets  a  foot  upon  it.  But  if  Henry  lives,  my  poor  Mr. 
Mackellar,  and  that  man  returns,  we  must  suffer  :  only  this 
time,  it  will  be  together."    ,^ 

On  the  whole,  I  was  well  pleased  with  Mrs.  Henry's 
attitude  of  mind  ;  nor  could  I  even  deny  there  was  some 
cogency  in  that  which  she  advanced  about  the  papers. 

"  Let  us  say  no  more  about  it,"  said  I.  '•  I  can  only  be 
jsorry  I  trusted  a  lady  with  the  originals,  which  was  an 
unbusinesslike  proceeding  at  the  best.  As  for  what  I  said 
of  leaving  the  service  of  the  family,  it  was  spoken  with  the 
tongue  only  ;  and  you  may  set  your  mind  at  rest.  I  belong 
to  Durrisdeer,  Mrs.  Henry,  as  if  I  had  been  born  there/' 

I  must  do  her  the  justice  to  say  she  seemed  perfectly 
relieved  ;  so  that  we  began  this  morning,  as  we  were  to  con- 
tinue for  so  many  years,  on  a  proper  ground  of  mutual 
indulgence  and  respect. 

The  same  day,  which  was  certainly  prededicate  to  joy,  we 
observed  the  first  signal  of  recovery  in  Mr.  Henry  ;  and 
about  three  of  the  following  afternoon,  he  found  his  mind 
again,  recognizing  me  by  name  with  the  strongest  evidences 
of  affection.  Mrs.  Henry  was  also  in  the  room,  at  the  bed 
foot ;  but  it  did  not  appear  that  he  observed  her.  And 
indeed  (the  fever  being  gone)  he  was  so  weak  that  he  made 
but  the  one  effort  and  sank  again  into  a  lethargy.  Th<i 
course  of  his  restoration  was  now  slow  but  equal  ;  every 
day  his  appetite  improved  ;  every  week  we  were  able  to 
remark  an  increase  both  of  strength  and  flesh ;  and  before 
the  end  of  the  month  he  was  out  of  bed  and  had  even  begun 
to  be  carried  in  his  chair  upon  the  terrace. 


THE  MASTER'S  SECOI^D  ABSENCE,  135 

It  was  perhaps  at  this  time  that  Mrs.  Henry  and  I  were 
the  most  uneasy  in  mind.  Apprehension  for  his  days  was 
at  an  end  ;  and  a  worse  fear  succeeded.  Every  day  we 
drew  consciously  nearer  to  a  day  of  reckoning  ;  and  the 
days  passed  on,  and  still  there  was  nothing.  Mr.  Henry 
bettered  in  strength,  he  held  long  talks  with  us  on  a  great 
diversity  of  subjects,  his  father  came  and  sat  with  him  and 
went  again  ;  and  still  there  was  no  reference  to  the  late 
tragedy  or  to  the  former  troubles  which  had  brought  it  on. 
Did  he  remember,  and  conceal  his  dreadful  knowledge  ?  or 
was  the  whole  blotted  from  his  mind  ?  this  was  the  problem 
that  kept  us  watching  and  trembling  all  day  when  we  were 
in  his  company,  and  held  us  awake  at  night  when  we  were 
in  our  lonely  beds.  We  knew  not  even  which  alternative 
to  hope  for,  both  appearing  so  unnatural  and  pointing  so 
directly  to  an  unsound  brain.  Once  this  fear  offered,  I 
observed  his  conduct  with  sedulous  particularity.  Some- 
thing of  the  child  he  exhibited  :  a  cheerfulness  quite  foreign 
to  his  previous  character,  an  interest  readily  aroused,  and 
then  very  tenacious,  in  small  matters  which  he  had  hereto- 
fore despised.  When  he  was  stricken  down,  I  was  his  only 
confidant,  and  I  may  say  his  only  friend,  and  he  was  on 
terms  of  division  with  his  wife  ;  upon  his  recovery  all  was 
changed,  the  past  forgotten,  the  wife  first  and  even  single 
in  his  thoughts.  He  turned  to  her  with  all  his  emotions 
like  a  child  to  its  mother,  and  seemed  secure  of  sympathy  ; 
called  her  in  all  his  needs  with  something  of  that  querulous 
familiarity  that  marks  a  certainty  of  indulgence  ;  and  I 
must  say,  in  justice  to  the  woman,  he  was  never  disap- 
pointed. To  her,  indeed,  this  changed  behavior  was  inex- 
pressibly affecting  ;  and  I  think  she  felt  it  secretly  as  a 
reproach  ;  so  that  I  have  seen  her,  in  early  days,  escape 
out  of  the  room  that  she  might  indulge  herself  in  weep- 
ing. But  to  me  the  change  appeared  not  natural  ;  and 
viewing   it  along  with  all  the  rest,  I  began   to   wonder^ 


136  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

with  many   head-shakings,  whether  his   reason  were  per- 
fectly erect. 

As  this  doubt  stretched  over  many  years,  endured  indeed 
until  my  master's  death,  and  clouded  all  our  subsequent 
relations,  I  may  well  consider  of  it  more  at  large.  When 
he  was  able  to  resume  some  charge  of  his  affairs,  I  had 
many  opportunities  to  try  him  with  precision.  There  was 
no  lack  of  understanding,  nor  yet  of  authority ;  but  the  old 
continuous  interest  had  quite  departed  ;  he  grew  readily 
fatigued  and  fell  to  yawning ;  and  he  carried  into  money 
relations,  where  it  is  certainly  out  of  place,  a  facility  that 
bordered  upon  slackness.  True,  since  we  had  no  longer 
the  exactions  of  the  Master  to  contend  against,  there  was 
the  less  occasion  to  raise  strictness  into  principle  or  do 
battle  for  a  farthing.  True  again,  there  was  nothing  exces- 
sive in  these  relaxations,  or  I  would  have  been  no  party  to 
them.  But  the  whole  thing  marked  a  change,  very  slight 
yet  very  perceptible  ;  and  though  no  man  could  say  my 
master  had  gone  at  all  out  of  his  mind,  no  man  could  deny 
that  he  had  drifted  from  his  character.  It  was  the  same  to 
the  end  with  his  manner  and  appearance.  Some  of  the 
heat  of  the  fever  lingered  in  his  veins  ;  his  movements  a 
little  hurried,  his  speech  notably  more  voluble,  yet  neither 
truly  amiss.  His  whole  mind  stood  open  to  happy  impres- 
sions, welcoming  these  and  making  much  of  them  ;  but  the 
smallest  suggestion  of  trouble  or  sorrow  he  received  with 
visible  impatience  and  dismissed  again  with  immediate 
relief.  It  was  to  this  temper  that  he  owed  the  felicity  of 
his  later  days ;  and  yet  here  it  was,  if  anywhere,  that  you 
could  call  the  man  insane.  A  great  part  of  this  life  consists 
in  contemplating  what  we  cannot  cure  ;  but  Mr.  Henry,  if 
he  could  not  dismiss  solicitude  by  an  effort  of  the  mind, 
must  instantly  and  at  whatever  cost  annihilate  the  cause  of 
it ;  so  that  he  played  alternately  the  ostrich  and  the  bull. 
It  is  to  this  strenuous  cowardice  of  pain  that  I  have  to  set 


THE  MASTER'S  SECOND  ABSENCE.  1 37 

down  all  the  unfortunate  and  excessive  steps  of  his  subse- 
quent career.  Certainly  tliis  was  the  reason  of  his  beating 
McManus,  the  groom,  a  thing  so  much  out  of  all  .bis  former 
practice  and  which  awakened  so  much  comment  at  the  time. 
It  is  to  this  again  that  I  must  lay  the  total  loss  of  near  upon 
two  hundred  pounds,  more  than  the  half  of  which  I  could 
have  saved  if  his  impatience  would  have  suffered  me.  But 
he  preferred  loss  or  any  desperate  extreme  to  a  continuance 
of  mental  suffering. 

All  this  has  led  me  far  from  our  immediate  trouble  : 
whether  he  remembered  or  had  forgotten  his  late  dreadful 
act ;  and  if  he  remembered,  in  what  light  he  viewed  it.  The 
truth  burst  upon  us  suddenly,  and  was  indeed  one  of  the 
chief  surprises  of  my  life.  He  had  been  several  times 
abroad,  and  was  now  beginning  to  walk  a  little  with  an  arm, 
when  it  chanced  I  should  be  left  alone  with  him  upon  the 
terrace.  He  turned  to  me  with  a  singular  furtive  smile, 
such  as  schoolboys  use  when  in  fault  ;  and  says  he,  in  a 
private  whisper  and  without  the  least  preface :  "  Where 
have  you  buried  him  ? " 

I  could  not  make  one  sound  in  answer.  , 

"  Where  have  you  buried  him  ?  "  he  repeated.     "  I  want  J 
to  see  his  grave." 

I  conceived  I  had  best  take  the  bull  by  the  hor«s!  "  Mr. 
Henry,"  said  I,  "  I  have  news  to  give  that  will  rejoice  you 
exceedingly.  In  all  human  likelihood,  your  hands  are  clear 
of  blood.  I  reason  from  certain  indices ;  and  by  these  it 
should  appear  your  brother  was  not  dead,  but  was  carried 
in  a  swound  on  board  the  lugger.  By  now,  he  may  be  per- 
fectly recovered." 

What  there  was  in  his  countenance  I  could  not  read. 
**  James  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Your  brother  James,"  I  answered.  "  I  would  not  raise 
a  hope  that  may  be  found  deceptive  ;  but  in  my  heart,  I 
think  it  very  probable  he  is  alive." 


138  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"  Ah !  "  says  Mr.  Henry  ;  and  suddenly  rising  from  his 
seat  with  more  alacrity  than  he  had  yet  discovered,  set  one 
fing:cr  on  my  breast,  and  cried  at  me  in  a  kind  of  screaming 
whisper,  "  Mackellar  " — these  were  his  words — "  nothing 
can  kill  that  man.  He  is  not  mortal.  He  is  bound  upon 
my  back  to  all  eternity — to  all  God's  eternity !  "  says  he, 
and,  sitting  down  again,  fell  upon  a  stubborn  silence. 

A  day  or  two  after,  with  the  same  secret  smile,  and  first 
looking  about  as  if  to  be  sure  we  were  alone,  **  Mackellar," 
said  he,  *'  when  you  have  any  intelligence,  be  sure  and  let 
me  know.  We  must  keep  an  eye  upon  hipi,  or  he  will  take 
us  when  we  least  expect." 

"  He  will  not  show  face  here  again,"  said  I. 

♦'  O  yes,  he  will,"  said  Mr.  Henry.  "  Wherever  I  am 
there  will  he  be."     And  again  he  looked  all  about  him. 

"You  must  not  dwell  upon  this  thought,  Mr.  Henry," 
said  I. 

"  No,"  said  he,  *'  that  is  very  good  advice.  We  will  never 
think  of  it,  except  when  you  have  news.  And  we  do  not 
know  yet,"  he  added  :  "  he  may  be  dead." 

The  manner  of  his  saying  this  convinced  me  thoroughly 
of  what  I  scarce  ventured  to  suspect :  that  so  far  from  suf- 
fering any  penitence  for  the  attempt,  he  did  but  lament  his 
failure.  This  was  a  discovery  I  kept  to  myself,  fearing  it 
might  do  him  a  prejudice  with  his  wife.  But  I  might  have 
saved  myself  the  trouble  ;  she  had  divined  it  for  herself, 
and  found  the  sentiment  quite  natural.  Indeed  I  could 
not  but  say  that  there  were  three  of  us  all  of  the  same  mind  ; 
nor  could  any  news  have  reached  Durrisdeer  more  generally 
welcome  than  tidings  of  the  Master's  death. 

This  brings  me  to  speak  of  the  exception,  my  old  lord. 
As  soon  as  my  anxiety  for  my  own  master  began  to  be  re- 
laxed, I  was  aware  of  a  change  in  the  old  gentleman,  his 
father,  that  seemed  to  threaten  mortal  consequences. 

His  face  was  pale  and  swollen ;  as  he  sat  in  the  chimney- 


THE  MASTER'S  SECOND  ABSENCE.  139 

side  with  his  Latin,  he  would  drop  off  sleeping  and  the  book 
roll  in  the  ashes  ;  some  days  he  would  drag  his  foot,  others 
stumble  in  speaking.  The  amenity  of  his  behavior  appeared 
more  extreme  ;  full  of  excuses  for  the  least  trouble,  very 
thoughtful  for  all  ;  to  myself,  of  a  most  flattering  civility. 
One  day  that  he  had  sent  for  his  lawyer  and  remained  a 
long  while  private,  he  met  me  as  he  was  crossing  the  hall 
with  painful  footsteps,  and  took  me  kindly  by  the  hand. 
"  Mr.  Mackellar,"  said  he,  "  I  have  had  many  occasions  to 
set  a  proper  value  on  your  services  ;  and  to-day,  when  I 
recast  my  will,  I  have  taken  the  freedom  to  name  you  for 
one  of  my  executors.  I  believe  you  bear  love  enough  to 
our  house  to  render  me  this  service."  At  that  very  time  he 
passed  the  greater  portion  of  his  days  in  slumber,  from 
which  it  was  often  difficult  to  rouse  him ;  seemed  to  have 
lost  all  count  of  years  and  had  several  times  (particularly 
on  waking)  called  for  his  wife  and  for  an  old  servant  whose 
very  gravestone  was  now  green  with  moss.  If  I  had  been 
put  to  my  oath,  I  must  have  declared  he  was  incapable  of 
testing  ;  and  yet  there  was  never  a  will  drawn  more  sensi- 
ble in  every  trait,  or  showing  a  more  excellent  judgment 
both  of  persons  and  affairs. 

His  dissolution,  though  it  took  not  very  long,  proceeded 
by  infinitesimal  gradations.  His  faculties  decayed  together 
steadily ;  the  power  of  his  limbs  was  almost  gone,  he  was 
extremely  deaf,  his  speech  had  sunk  into  mere  mumblings  ; 
and  yet  to  the  end  he  managed  to  discover  something  of  his 
former  courtesy  and  kindness,  pressing  the  hand  of  any 
that  helped  him,  presenting  me  with  one  of  his  Latin  books 
in  which  he  had  laboriously  traced  my  name,  and  in  a 
thousand  ways  reminding  us  of  the  greatness  of  that  loss, 
which  it  might  almost  be  said  we  had  already  suffered. 
To  the  end,  the  power  of  articulation  returned  to  him  in 
flashes ;  it  seemed  he  had  only  forgotten  the  art  of  speech 
^s  a  child  forgets  his  lesson,  and  at  times   he  would  call 


140  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

some  part  of  it  to  mind.  On  the  last  night  of  his  life, 
he  suddenly  broke  silence  with  these  words  from  Virgil : 
"  Gnatique  pratisque,  alma,  precor,  miserere,"  perfectly 
uttered,  and  with  a  fitting  accent.  At  the  sudden  clear 
sound  of  it,  we  started  from  our  several  occupations  ;  but 
it  was  in  vain  we  turned  to  him  ;  he  sat  there  silent  and  to 
all  appearance  fatuous.  A  little  later,  he  was  had  to  bed 
with  more  difficulty  than  ever  before  ;  and  some  time  in  the 
night,  without  any  mortal  violence,  his  spirit  fled. 

At  a  far  later  period,  I  chanced  to  speak  of  these  particu- 
lars with  a  doctor  of  medicine,  a  man  of  so  high  a  reputa- 
tion that  I  scruple  to  adduce  his  name.  By  his  view  of  it, 
father  and  son  both  suffered  from  the  same  affection  :  the 
father  from  the  strain  of  his  unnatural  sorrows,  the  son 
perhaps  in  the  excitation  of  the  fever,  each  had  ruptured  a 
vessel  on  the  brain  ;  and  there  was  probably  (my  doctor 
added)  some  predisposition  in  the  family  to  accidents  of 
that  description.  The  father  sank,  the  son  recovered  all 
the  externals  of  a  healthy  man  ;  but  it  is  like  there  was 
some  destruction  in  those  delicate  tissues  where  the  soul  re- 
sides and  does  her  earthly  business ;  her  heavenly,  I  would 
fain  hope,  cannot  be  thus  obstructed  by  material  accidents. 
And  yet  upon  a  more  mature  opinion,  it  matters  not  one 
jot ;  for  He  who  shall  pass  judgment  on  the  records  of  our 
life  is  the  same  that  formed  us  in  frailty. 

The  death  of  my  old  lord  was  the  occasion  of  a  fresh  sur- 
prise to  us  who  watched  the  behavior  of  his  successor.  To 
any  considering  mind,  the  two  sons  had  between  them  slain 
their  father ;  and  he  who  took  the  sword  might  be  even 
said  to  have  slain  him  with  his  hand.  But  no  such  thought 
appeared  to  trouble  my  new  lord.  He  was  becomingly 
grave  ;  I  could  scarce  say  sorrowful,  or  only  with  a  pleas- 
ant sorrow  ;  talking  of  the  dead  with  a  regretful  cheerful- 
ness, relating  old  examples  of  his  character,  smiling  at  them 
with  a  good  conscience ;  and  when  the  day  of  the  funeral 


THE  MASTER'S  SECOND  ABSENCE.  14I 

came  round,  doing  the  honors  with  exact  propriety.  I  could 
perceive  besides,  that  he  found  a  solid  gratification  in  his  ac- 
cession to  the  title  ;  the  which  he  was  punctilious  in  exacting. 

And  now  there  came  upon  the  scene  a  new  character,  and  ^/ 
one  that  played  his  part  too  in  the  story  ;  I  mean  the  pres-y 
ent  lord,  Alexander,  whose  birth  (17th  July,  1757)  filled  the*^ 
cup  of  my  poor  master's  happiness.  There  was  nothing 
then  left  him  to  wish  for  ;  nor  yet  leisure  to  wish  for  it. 
Indeed  there  never  was  a  parent  so  fond  and  doting  as  he 
showed  himself.  He  was  continually  uneasy  in  his  son's 
absence.  Was  the  child  abroad  ?  the  father  would  be 
watching  the  clouds  in  case  it  rained.  Was  it  night?  he 
would  rise  out  of  his  bed  to  observe  its  slumbers.  His  con- 
versation grew  even  wearyful  to  strangers,  since  he  talked 
of  little  but  his  son.  In  matters  relating  to  the  estate,  all 
was  designed  with  a  particular  eye  to  Alexander  ;  and  it 
would  be  :  "  Let  us  put  it  in  hand  at  once,  that  the  wood 
may  be  grown  against  Alexander's  majority";  or  **  this 
will  fall  in  again  handsomely  for  Alexander's  marriage." 
Every  day  this  absorption  of  the  man's  nature  became  more 
observable,  with  many  touching  and  some  very  blameworthy 
particulars.  Soon  the  child  could  walk  abroad  with  him, 
at  first  on  the  terrace  hand  in  hand,  and  afterward  at  large 
about  the  policies  ;  and  this  grew  to  be  my  lord's  chief  occu- 
pation. The  sound  of  their  two  voices  (audible  a  great 
way  off,  for  they  spoke  loud)  became  familiar  in  the  neigh- 
borhood ;  and  for  my  part  I  found  it  more  agreeable  than 
the  sound  of  birds.  It  was  pretty  to  see  the  pair  returning, 
full  of  briars,  and  the  father  as  flushed  and  sometimes 
bemuddied  as  the  child  :  for  they  were  equal  shaJ»P^mall 
sorts  of  boyish  entertainment,  digging  jirtlie  beach,  dam- 
ming of  streams,  and  what  not ;  SQTd^  I  have  seen  them  gaze 
through  a  fence, at- cattle  with  the  same  childish  contem- 
platioi 


142  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

The  mention  of  these  rambles  brings  me  to  a  strange 
scene  of  which  I  was  a  witness.  There  was  one  walk  I 
never  followed  myself  without  emotion,  so  often  had  I  gone 
there  upon  miserable  errands,  so  much  had  there  befallen 
against  the  house  of  Durrisdeer.  But  the  path  lay  handy 
from  all  points  beyond  the  Muckle  Ross  ;  and  I  was  driven, 
although  much  against  my  will,  to  take  my  use  of  it  perhaps 
once  in  the  two  months.  It  befell  when  Mr.  Alexander  was 
of  the  age  of  seven  or  eight,  I  had  some  business  on  the 
far  side  in  the  morning,  and  entered  the  shrubbery  on  my 
homeward  way,  about  nine  of  a  bright  forenoon.  It  was 
that  time  of  year  when  the  woods  are  all  in  their  spring 
colors,  the  thorns  all  in  flower,  and  the  birds  in  the  high 
season  of  their  singing.  In  contrast  to  this  merriment,  the 
shrubbery  was  only  the  more  sad  and  I  the  more  oppressed 
by  its  associations.  In  this  situation  of  spirit,  it  struck  me 
disagreeably  to  hear  voices  a  little  way  in  front,  and  to 
recognize  the  tones  of  my  lord  and  Mr.  Alexander.  I 
pushed  ahead,  and  came  presently  into  their  view.  They 
stood  together  in  the  open  space  where  the  duel  was,  my 
lord  with  his  hand  on  his  son's  shoulder  and  speaking 
with  some  gravity.  At  least,  as  he  raised  his  head  upon 
my  coming,  I  thought  I  could  perceive  his  countenance  to 
lighten. 

"  Ah,"  says  he,  "  here  comes  the  good  Mackellar.  I  have 
just  been  telling  Sandie  the  story  of  this  place,  and  how 
there  was  a  man  whom  the  devil  tried  to  kill,  and  how  near 
he  came  to  kill  the  devil  instead." 

I  had  thought  it  strange  enough  he  should  bring  the 
^jchild  into  that  scene  ;  that  he  should  actually  be  discours- 
ing othVrS^act,  passed  measure.  But  the  worst  was  yet  to 
come  ;  for  he^  added,  turning  to  his-son  :  **  You  can  ask 
Mackellar  ;  he  was  here  and  saw  it." 

"Is  it  true,  Mr.  Mackellar  ?"  asked  the  child.  "And 
did  you  really  see  the  devil?"  ^    -  ^ 


THE  MASTER'S  SECOND  ABSEMCR,  143 

"  I  have  not  heard  the  tale,"  I  replied  ;  "  and  I  am  in  a 
press  of  business."  So  far  I  said  a  little  sourly,  fencing 
with  the  embarrassment  of  the  position  ;  and  suddenly  the 
bitterness  of  the  past  and  the  terror  of  that  scene  by  candle- 
light rushed  in  upon  my  mind  ;  I  bethought  me  that,  for  a 
difference  of  a  second's  quickness  in  parade,  the  child  be- 
fore me  might  have  never  seen  the  day  ;  and  the  emotion 
that  always  fluttered  round  my  heart  in  that  dark  shrubbery 
burst  forth  in  words.  "  But  so  much  is  true,"  I  cried, 
"  that  I  have  met  the  devil  in  these  woods  and  seen  him 
foiled  here  ;  blessed  be  God  that  we  escaped  with  life — 
blessed  be  God  that  one  stone  yet  stands  upon  another  in 
the  walls  of  Durrisdeer  !  and  O,  Mr.  Alexander,  if  ever  you 
come  by  this  spot,  though  it  was  a  hundred  years  hence  and 
you  came  with  the  gayest  and  the  highest  in  the  land,  I 
would  step  aside  and  remember  a  bit  prayer." 

My  lord  bowed  his  head  gravely.  "  Ah,"  says  he,  "  Mac- 
kellar  is  always  in  the  right.  Come,  Alexander,  take  your 
bonnet  off."  And  with  that  he  uncovered  and  held  out  his 
hand.  "  O  Lord,"  said  he,  "  I  thank  thee,  and  my  son 
thanks  thee,  for  thy  manifold  great  mercies.  Let  us  have 
peace  for  a  little  ;  defend  us  from  the  evil  man.  Smite  him, 
O  Lord,  upon  the  lying  mouth  !  "  The  last  ^broke  out  of 
him  like  a  cry ;  and  at  that,  whether  remembered  anger 
choked  his  utterance,  or  whether  he  perceived  this  was  a 
singular  sort  of  prayer,  at  least  he  came  suddenly  to  a  full 
stop ;  and  after  a  moment,  set  back  his  hat  upon  his  head. 

**  I  think  you  have  forgot  a  word,  my  lord,"  said  L  "  For- 
give us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass 
against  us.  For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power^  and 
the  glory,  for  ever  and  ever.     Amen." 

"  Ah,  that  is  easy  saying,"  said  my  lord.  "  That  is  very 
easy  saying,  Mackellar.  But  for  me  to  forgive  ? — I  think  I 
would  cut  a  very  silly  figure,  if  I  had  the  affectation  to  pre- 
tend it." 


144  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

"  The  bairn,  my  lord,"  said  I,  with  some  severity,  for  I 
thought  his  expressions  little  fitted  for  the  ears  of  children. 

''Why,  very  true,"  said  he.  "This  is  dull  work  for  a 
bairn.     Let's  go  nesting." 

I  forget  if  it  was  the  same  day,  but  it  was  soon  after,  my 
lord,  finding  me  alone,  opened  himself  a  little  more  on  the 
same  head. 

"  Mackellar,"  he  said,  **  I  am  now  a  very  happy  man." 

"  I  think  so  indeed,  my  lord,"  said  I,  "  and  the  sight  of 
it  gives  me  a  light  heart." 

"  There  is  an  obligation  in  happiness,  do  you  not  think 
so  ? "  says  he  musingly. 

''  I  think  so  indeed,"  says  I,  "  and  one  in  sorrow  too.  If 
we  are  not  here  to  try  to  do  the  best,  in  my  humble  opinion, 
the  sooner  we  are  away  the  better  for  all  parties." 

"  Ay,  but  if  you  were  in  my  shoes,  would  you  forgive 
him  ? "  asks  my  lord. 

The  suddenness  of  the  attack  a  little  graveled  me.  "  It 
is  a  duty  laid  upon  us  strictly,"  said  I. 

"  Hut !  "  said  he.  "  These  are  expressions  !  Do  you 
forgive  the  man  yourself  ? " 

"  Well— no  !  "  said  I.     "  God  forgive  me,  I  do  not." 

"  Shake  hands  upon  that  !  "  cries  my  lord,  with  a  kind  of 
jovial  ty. 

"  It  is  an  ill  sentiment  to  shake  hands  upon,"  said  I,  "for 
Christian  people.  I  think  I  will  give  you  mine  on  some 
more  evangelical  occasion." 

This  I  said  smiling  a  little  ;  but  as  for  my  lord,  he  went 
from  the  room  laughing  aloud. 

;  For  my  lord's  slavery  to  the  child,  I  can  find  no  expres- 
^  sion  adequate.  He  lost  himself  in  that  continual  thought : 
business,  friends,  and  wife  being  all  alike  forgotten  or  only 
remembered  with  a  painful  effort,  like  that  of  one  struggling 
with  a  posset.     It  was  most  notable  in  the  matter  of  his 


THE  MASTER'S  SECOND  ABSENCE.  145 

wife.  Since  I  had  known  Durrisdeer,  she  had  been  the 
burthen  of  his  thought  and  the  loadstone  of  his  eyes  ;  and 
now,  she  was  quite  cast  out.  I  have  seen  him  come  to  the 
door  of  a  room,  look  round,  and  pass  my  lady  over  as 
though  she  were  a  dog  before  the  fire  :  it  would  be  Alex- 
ander he  was  seeking,  and  my  lady  knew  it  well.  I  have 
heard  him  speak  to  her  so  ruggedly,  that  I  nearly  found  it 
in  my  heart  to  intervene  :  the  cause  would  still  be  the  same, 
that  she  had  in  some  way  thwarted  Alexander.  Without 
doubt  this  was  in  the  nature  of  a  judgment  on  my  lady. 
Without  doubt  she  had  the  tables  turned  upon  her  as  only 
Providence  can  do  it ;  she  who  had  been  cold  so  many  years 
to  every  mark  of  tenderness,  it  was  her  part  now  to  be 
neglected  :  the  more  praise  to  her  that  she  played  it  well. 

An  odd  situation  resulted  :  that  we  had  once  more  two 
parties  in  the  house,  and  that  now  I  was  of  my  lady's.  Not 
that  ever  I  lost  the  love  I  bore  my  master.  But  for  one 
thing,  he  had  the  less  use  for  my  society.  For  another,  I 
could  not  but  compare  the  case  of  Mr.  Alexander  with  that 
of  Miss  Katharine  ;  for  whom  my  lord  had  never  found  the 
least  attention.  And  for  a  third,  I  was  wounded  by  the 
change  he  discovered  to  his  wife,  which  struck  me  in  the 
nature  of  an  infidelity.  I  could  not  but  admire  besides  the 
constancy  and  kindness  she  displayed.  Perhaps  her  senti- 
ment to  my  lord,  as  it  had  been  founded  from  the  first  in 
pity,  was  that  rather  of  a  mother  than  a  wife  ;  perhaps  it 
pleased  her  (if  I  may  so  say)  to  behold  her  two  children  so 
happy  in  each  other :  the  more  as  one  had  suffered  so  un- 
justly in  the  past.  But  for  all  that,  and  though  I  could 
never  trace  in  her  one  spark  of  jealousy,  she  must  fall  back 
for  society  on  poor,  neglected  Miss  Katharine ;  and  I,  on 
my  part,  came  to  pass  my  spare  hours  more  and  more  with 
the  mother  and  daughter.  It  would  be  easy  to  make  too 
much  of  this  division,  for  it  was  a  pleasant  family  as  famil- 
ies go ;  still  the  thing  existed  ;  whether  my  lord  knew  it  ot 


<i 


14^  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

not,  I  am  in  doubt,  I  do  not  think  he  did,  he  was  bound  up 
so  entirely  in  his  son ;  but  the  rest  of  us  knew  it  and  (in  a 
manner)  suffered  from  the  knowledge. 

What  troubled  us  most,  however,  was  the  great  and  grow-  / 
ing  danger  to  the  child.     My  lord  was  his  father.over  again  ;v 
it  was  to  be  feared  the  son  would  prove  a  second  Master.v 
Time  has  proved  these  fears  to  have  been  quite  exaggerate. 
Certainly  there  is  no  more  worthy  gentleman   to-day  in 
Scotland  than  the  seventh  Lord   Durrisdeer.     Of  my  own 
exodus  from  his  employment,  it  does  not  become  me  to 
speak,  above  all  in  a  memorandum  written  only  to  justify 
his  father.  .  .  . 

^Editor's  Note.  Five  pages  of  Mr.  Mackellar's  MS.  are 
here  omitted.  I  have  gathered  from,  their  perusal  an  impres- 
sion that  Mr.  Mackellar^  in  his  old  age^  was  rather  an  exact- 
ing servant.  Against  the  seventh  Lord  Durrisdeer  {with 
whom,  at  any  rate,  we  have  no  concern)  nothing  material  is 
alleged.— R.  Z.  6".] 

.  .  .  But  our  fear  at  the  time  was  lest  he  should  turn 
out,  in  the  person  of  his  son,  a  second  edition  of  his 
brother.  My  lady  had  tried  to  interject  some  wholesome 
discipline  ;  she  had  been  glad  to  give  that  up,  and  now 
looked  on  with  secret  dismay ;  sometimes  she  even  spoke 
of  it  by  hints ;  and  sometimes  when  there  was  brought  to 
her  knowledge  some  monstrous  instance  of  my  lord's  indul- 
gence, she  would  betray  herself  in  a  gesture  or  perhaps 
an  exclamation.  As  for  myself,  I  was  haunted  by  the 
thought  both  day  and  night :  not  so  much  for  the  child's 
sake  as  for  the  father's.  The  man  had  gone  to  sleep,  he 
was  dreaming  a  dream,  and  any  rough  wakening  must 
infallibly  prove  mortal.  That  he  should  survive  its  death 
was  inconceivable ;  and  the  fear  of  its  dishonor  made  me 
cover  my  face. 


THE  MASTER'S  SECOND  ABSENCE.  147 

It  was  this  continual  preoccupation  that  screwed  me  up 
at  last  to  a  remonstrance  :  a  matter  worthy  to  be  narrated 
in  detail.  My  lord  and  I  sat  one  day  at  the  same  table 
upon  some  tedious  business  of  detail ;  I  have  said  that  he 
had  lost  his  former  interest  in  such  occupations  ;  he  was 
plainly  itching  to  be  gone,  and  he  looked  fretful,  weary, 
and  methought  older  than  I  had  ever  previously  observed. 
I  suppose  it  was  the  haggard  face  that  put  me  suddenly 
upon  my  enterprise. 

"  My  lord,"  said  I,  with  my  head  down,  and  feigning  to 
continue  my  occupation — "or  rather  let  me  call  you  again 
by  the  name  of  Mr.  Henry,  for  I  fear  your  anger  and  want 
you  to  think  upon  old  times — " 

'*My  good  Mackellar!"  said  he;  and  that  in  tones  so 
kindly  that  I  near  forsook  my  purpose.  But  I  called  to 
mind  that  I  was  speaking  for  his  good,  and  stuck  to  my 
colors. 

**  Has  it  never  come  in  upon  your  mind  what  you  are 
doing?"  I  asked. 

"  What  I  am  doing  ? "  he  repeated  ;  "  I  was  never  good  at 
guessing  riddles." 

"What  you  are  doing  with  your  son,"  said  I. 

"Well,"  he  said,  with  some  defiance  in  his  tone,  "and 
what  am  I  doing  with  my  son?" 

"  Your  father  was  a  very  good  man,"  says  I,  straying 
from  the  direct  path.  "But  do  you  think  he  was  a  wise 
father?" 

There  was  a  pause  before  he  spoke,  and  then  :  "  I  say 
nothing  against  him,"  he  replied.  "  I  had  the  most  cause 
perhaps  ;  but  I  say  nothing." 

"Why,  there  it  is,"  said  I.  "  You  had  the  cause  at  least. 
And  yet  your  father  was  a  good  man  ;  I  never  knew  a 
better,  save  on  the  one  point,  nor  yet  a  wiser.  Where  he 
stumbled,  it  is  highly  possible  another  man  should  fall. 
He  had  the  two  sons—'* 


148  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

My  lord  rapped  suddenly  and  violently  on  the  table. 

"  What  is  this  ? "  cried  he.     "  Speak  out !  " 

"I  will,  then,"  said  I,  my  voice  almost  strangled  with  the 

/'thumping  of  my  heart.     "If  you  continue  to  indulge  Mr. 
Alexander,  you  are  following  in  your  father's  footsteps  : 

I  Beware,  my  lord,  lest  (when  he  grows  up)  your  son  should 

lollow  in  the  Master's." 

I  had  never  meant  to  put  the  thing  so  crudely ;  but  in  the 
extreme  of  fear,  there  comes  a  brutal  kind  of  courage,  the 
most  brutal  indeed  of  all ;  and  I  burnt  my  ships  with  that 
plain  word.  I  never  had  the  answer.  When  I  lifted  my 
head,  my  lord  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and  the  next  moment  he 
fell  heavily  on  the  floor.  The  fit  or  seizure  endured  not  very 
long  ;  he  came  to  himself  vacantly,  put  his  hand  to  his  head 
which  I  was  then  supporting,  and  says  he  in  a  broken  voice, 
"I  have  been  ill,"  and  a  little  after,  "Help  me."  I  got 
him  to  his  feet,  and  he  stood  pretty  well,  though  he  kept 
hold  of  the  table.  "I  have  been  ill,  Mackellar,"  he  said 
again.  "  Something  broke,  Mackellar — or  was  going  to 
break,  and  then  all  swam  away.  I  think  I  was  very  angry. 
Never  you  mind,  Mackellar,  never  you  mind,  my  man.  I 
wouldnae  hurt  a  hair  upon  your  head.  Too  much  has  come 
and  gone.  It's  a  certain  thing  between  us  two.  But  I 
think,  Mackellar,  I  will  go  to  Mrs.  Henry — I  think  I  will  go 
to  Mrs.  Henry,"  said  he,  and  got  pretty  steadily  from  the 
room,  leaving  me  overcome  with  penitence. 

Presently  the  door  flew  open,  and  my  lady  swept  in  with 
flashing  eyes.  "  What  is  all  this  ?  "  she  cried.  "  What  have 
you  done  to  my  husband  ?  Will  nothing  teach  you  your 
position  in  this  house  ?  Will  you  never  cease  from  making 
and  meddling?" 

"My  lady,"  said  I,  "since  I  have  been  in  this  house,  I 
have  had  plenty  of  hard  words.  For  a  while  they  were  my 
daily  diet,  and  I  swallowed  them  all.  As  for  to-day,  you 
may  call  me  what  you  please  ;  you  will  never  find  the  name 


THE  MASTER'S  SECOND  ABSENCE.  149 

hard  enough  for  such  a  blunder.  And  yet  I  meant  it  for 
the  best." 

I  told  her  all  with  ingenuity,  even  as  it  is  written  here  ; 
and  when  she  heard  me  out,  she  pondered,  and  I  could  see 
her  animosity  fall.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  "  you  meant  well  in- 
deed. I  have  had  the  same  thought  myself,  or  the  same 
temptation  rather,  which  makes  me  pardon  you.  But,  dear 
God,  can  you  not  understand  that  he  can  bear  no  more  ? 
He  can  bear  no  more  ! "  she  cried.  '*  The  cord  is  stretched 
to  snapping.  What  matters  the  future,  if  he  have  one  or 
two  good  days  ? " 

"  Amen,"  said  I.  "  I  will  meddle  no  more.  I  am  pleased 
enough  that  you  should  recognize  the  kindness  of  my 
meaning." 

"  Yes,"  said  my  lady,  "  but  when  it  came  to  the  point,  I 
have  to  suppose  your  courage  failed  you  ;.  for  what  you 
said  was  said  cruelly."  She  paused,  looking  at  me  ;  then 
suddenly  smiled  a  little,  and  said  a  singular  thing  :  "  Do 
you  know  what  you  are,  Mr.  Mackellar  ?  You  are  an  old 
maid." 

No  more  incident  of  any  note  occurred  in  the  family^ 
until  the  return  of  that  ill-starred  man,  the  Master.  But  I 
have  to  place  here  a  second  extract  from  the  memoirs  of 
Chevalier  Burke,  interesting  in  itself  and  highly  necessary 
for  my  purpose.  It  is  our  only  sight  ol  the  Master  on  his 
Indian  travels  ;  and  the  first  word  in  these  pages  of  Secun- 
dra  Dass.  One  fact,  it  is  to  observe,  appears  here  very 
clearly,  which  if  we  had  known  some  twenty  years  ago, 
how  many  calamities  and  sorrows  had  been  spared  ! — that 
Secundra  Dass  spoke  English. 


ADVENTURE  OF 
CHEVALIER  BURKE  IN  JIJfDIiL. 

(Extracted   from  his  Memoirs.) 

.  .  .  Here  was  I,  therefore,  on  the  streets  of  that  city, 
the  name  of  which  I  cannot  call  to  mind,  while  even  then  I 
was  so  ill  acquainted  with  its  situation  that  I  knew  not 
whether  to  go  south  or  north.  The  alert  being  sudden,  I 
had  run  forth  without  shoes  or  stockings  ;  my  hat  had  been 
struck  from  my  head  in  the  mellay  ;  my  kit  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  English  ;  I  had  no  companion  but  the  cipaye, 
no  weapon  but  my  sword,  and  the  devil  a  coin  in  my  pocket. 
In  short  I  was  for  all  the  world  like  one  of  those  calendars 
with  whom  Mr.  Galland  has  made  us  acquainted  in  his 
elegant  tales.  These  gentlemen,  you  will  remember,  were 
forever  falling  in  with  extraordinary  incidents  ;  and  I  was 
myself  upon  the  brink  of  one  so  astonishing  that  I  protest  I 
cannot  explain  it  to  this  day. 

The  cipaye  was  a  very  honest  man,  he  had  served  many 
years  with  the  French  colors,  and  would  have  let  himself 
be  cut  to  pieces  for  any  of  the  brave  countrymen  of  Mr. 
Lally.  It  is  the  same  fellow  (his  name  has  quite  escaped 
me)  of  whom  I  have  narrated  already  a  surprising  instance 
of  generosity  of  mind  :  when  he  found  Mr.  de  Fessac  and 
myself  upon  the  ramparts,  entirely  overcome  with  liquor, 
and  covered  us  with  straw  while  the  commandant  was  pass- 
ing by.  I  consulted  him  therefore  with  perfect  freedom. 
It  was  a  fine  question  what  to  do  ;  but  we  decided  at  last 
to  escalade  a  garden  wall,  where  we  could  certainly  sleep  in 
the  shadow  of  the  trees,  and  might  perhaps  find  an  occa- 

HO 


ADVENTURE  OF  CHEVAtlER  BURKE.  151 

sion  to  get  hold  of  a  pair  of  slippers  and  a  turban.  In  that 
part  of  the  city  we  had  only  the  difficulty  of  the  choice,  for 
it  was  a  quarter  consisting  entirely  of  walled  gardens,  and 
the  lanes  which  divided  them  were  at  that  hour  of  the 
night  deserted.  I  gave  the  cipaye  a  back,  and  we  had  soon 
dropped  into  a  large  enclosure  full  of  trees.  The  place  was 
soaking  with  the  dew  which,  in  that  country,  is  exceedingly 
unwholesome,  above  all  to  whites  ;  yet  my  fatigue  was  so 
extreme  that  I  was  already  half-asleep,  when  the  cipaye 
recalled  me  to  my  senses.  In  the  far  end  of  the  enclosure 
a  bright  light  had  suddenly  shone  out,  and  continued  to 
burn  steadily  among  the  leaves.  It  was  a  circumstance 
highly  unusual  in  such  a  place  and  hour  ;  and  in  our  situa- 
tion, it  behoved  us  to  proceed  with  some  timidity.  The 
cipaye  was  sent  to  reconnoitre,  and  pretty  soon  returned 
with  the  intelligence  that  we  had  fallen  extremely  amiss, 
for  the  house  belonged  to  a  white  man  who  was  in  all  like- 
lihood English. 

"  Faith,"  says  I,  "  if  there  is  a  white  man  to  be  seen,  I  will 
have  a  look  at  him ;  for  the  Lord  be  praised  !  there  are 
more  sorts  than  the  one  !  " 

The  cipaye  led  me  forward  accordingly  to  a  place  from 
which  I  had  a  clear  view  upon  the  house.     It  was  sur- 
rounded with  a  wide  verandah  ;  a  lamp,  very  well  trimmed, 
stood  upon  the  floor  of  it  ;  and  on  either  side  of  the  lamp 
there  sat  a  man,  cross-legged  after  the  Oriental  manner. 
Both,  besides,  were  bundled  up  in  muslin  like  two  natives  •  I 
and  yet  one  of  them  was  not  only  a  white  man,  but  a  man  , 
very  well  known  to  me  and  the  reader  :  being  indeed  that  f 
very  Master  of  Ballantrae  of  whose  gallantry  and  genius  I 
have  had  to  speak  so  often.     Word  had  reached  me  that  he 
was  come  to  the  Indies  ;  though  we  had  never  met  at  least 
and  I  heard  little  of  his  occupations.     But  sure,  I  had  no 
sooner  recognized  him,  and  found  myself  in  the  arms  of  so 
old  a  comrade,  than  I  supposed  my  tribulations  were  quite 


152  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

done.  I  stepped  plainly  forth  into  the  light  of  the  moon, 
which  shone  exceeding  strong,  and  hailing  Ballantrae  by 
name,  made  him  in  a  few  words  master  of  my  grievous 
situation.  He  turned,  started  the  least  thing  in  the  world, 
looked  me  fair  in  the  face  while  I  was  speaking,  and  when  I 
had  done,  addressed  himself  to  his  companion  in  the  bar- 
barous native  dialect.  The  second  person,  who  was  of  an 
extraordinary  delicate  appearance,  with  legs  like  walking 
canes  and  fingers  like  the  stalk  of  a  tobacco  pipe,*  now  rose 
to  his  feet. 

"  The  Sahib,"  says  he,  "  understands  no  English  lan- 
guage. I  understand  it  myself,  and  I  see  you  make  some 
small  mistake — Oh,  which  may  happen  very  often  !  But 
the  Sahib  would  be  glad  to  know  how  you  come  in  a 
garden." 

**  Ballantrae  !  "  I  cried.  "  Have  you  the  damned  impu- 
dence to  deny  me  to  my  face  ? " 

Ballantrae  never  moved  a  muscle,  staring  at  me  like  an 
image  in  a  pagoda, 
j      "  The  Sahib  understands  no  English  language,"  ^ays  the 
J  native,  as  glib  as  before.     "  He  be  glad  to  know  how  you 
come  in  a  garden." 

"  Oh,  the  divil  fetch  him  !  "  says  I.  "  He  would  be  glad 
to  know  how  I  come  in  a  garden,  would  he  ?  Well  now,  my 
dear  man,  just  have  the  civility  to  tell  the  Sahib,  with  my 
kind  love,  that  we  are  two  soldiers  here  whom  he  never 
met  and  never  heard  of,  but  the  cipaye  is  a  broth  of  a  boy, 
and  I  am  a  broth  of  a  boy  myself  ;  and  if  we  don't  get  a 
full  meal  of  meat,  and  a  turban,  and  slippers,  and  the  value 
of  a  gold  mohur  in  small  change  as  a  matter  of  conven- 
ience,  bedad,  my  friend,  I  could  lay  my  finger  on  a  garden 
where  there  is  going  to  be  trouble." 

They  carried  their  comedy  so  far  as  to  converse  a  while 
in  Hindustanee ;  and  then,  says  the  Hindu,  with  the  same 
*  Note  by  Mr.  MackeUar.— Plainly  Secundra  Dass.    E.   McK. 


ADVENTURE  OF  CHEVM.IER  BURKE.  153 

smile,  but  sighing  as  if  he  were  tired  of  the  repetition. 
"  The  Sahib  would  be  giad  to  know  how  you  come  in  a 
garden." 

"  Is  that  the  way  of  it  ?  "  says  I,  and  laying  my  hand  on 
my  sword-hilt,  I  bade  the  cipaye  draw. 

Ballantrae's  Hindu,  still  smiling,  pulled  out  a  pistol  from 
his  bosom,  and  though  Ballantrae  himself  never  moved  a 
muscle,  I  knew  him  well  enough  to  be  sure  he  was  pre- 
pared. 

^*  The  Sahib  thinks  you  better  go  away,"  says  the  Hindu. 

Well,  to  be  plain,  it  was  what  I  was  thinking  myself  ;  for 
the  report  of  a  pistol  would  have  been,  under  providence, 
the  means  of  hanging  the  pair  of  us. 

"  Tell  the  Sahib,  I  consider  him  no  gentleman,"  says  I, 
and  turned  away  with  a  gesture  of  contempt. 

I  was  not  gone  three  steps  when  the  voice  of  the  Hindu 
called  me  back.  "  The  Sahib  would  be  glad  to  know  if  you 
are  a  dam,  low  Irishman,"  says  he  ;  and  at  the  words  Bal- 
lantrae smiled  and  bowed  very  low. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  says  I. 

"  The  Sahib  says  you  ask  your  friend  Mackellar,"  says 
the  Hindu.     **  The  Sahib  he  cry  quits." 

"  Tell  the  Sahib  I  will  give  him  a  cure  for  the  Scots  fid- 
dle when  next  we  meet,"  cried  I. 

The  pair  were  still  smiling  as  I  left. 

There  is  little  doubt  some  flaws  maybe  picked  in  my  own 
Ipehavior  ;  and  when  a  man,  however  gallant,  appeals  to 
posterity  with  an  account  of  his  exploits,  he  must  almost 
certainly  expect  to  share  the  fate  of  Caesar  and  Alexander, 
and  to  meet  with  some  detractors.  But  there  is  one  thing 
that  can  never  be  laid  at  the  door  of  Francis  Burke ;  he 
never  turned  his  back  on  a  friend.  .  .  . 

(Here  follows  a  passage  which  the  Chevalier  Burke  has 
been  at  the  pains  to  delete  before  sending  me  his  manu-\/ 
script.     Doubtless  it  was  some  very  natural  complaint  of 


154  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

what  he  supposed  to  be  an  indiscretion  on  my  part ;  though 
indeed,  I  can  call  none  to  mind.  Perhaps  Mr.  Henry  was 
less  guarded ;  or  it  is  just  possible  the  Master  found  the 
means  to  examine  my  correspondence,  and  himself  read  the 
letter  from  Troyes  ;  in  revenge  for  which  this  cruel  jest 
was  perpetrated  on  Mr.  Burke  in  his  extreme  necessity. 
The  Master,  for  all  his  wickedness,  was  not  without  some 

^  kiatural  affection  ;  I  believe  he  was  sincerely  attached  to 
Mr.  Burke  in  the  beginning  ;  but  the  thought  of  treachery 
dried  up  the  springs  of  his  very  shallow  friendship,  and  his 

detestable  nature  appeared  naked.— E.  McK.) 


THE   ENEMY   IN   THE   HOUSE. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  that  I  should  be  at  a  stick  for  a 
date, — the  date,  besides,  of  an  incident  that  changed  the 
very  nature  of  my  life,  and  sent  us  all  into  foreign  lands. 
But  the  truth  is  I  was  stricken  out  of  all  my  habitudes, 
and  find  my  journals  very  ill  redd-up,*  the  day  not  indi- 
cated sometimes  for  a  week  or  two  together,  and  the  whole 
fashion  of  the  thing  like  that  of  a  man  near  desperate.  It 
was  late  in  March  at  least,  or  early  in  April,  1764.  I  had 
slept  heavily  and  wakened  with  a  premonition  of  some  evil 
to  befall.  So  strong  was  this  upon  my  spirit,  that  I  hurried 
downstairs  in  my  shirt  and  breeches,  and  my  hand  (I  remem- 
ber) shook  upon  the  rail.  It  was  a  cold,  sunny  morning 
with  a  thick,  white  frost ;  the  blackbirds  sang  exceeding 
sweet  and  loud  about  the  house  of  Durrisdeer,  and  there 
was  a  noise  of  the  sea  in  all  the  chambers.  As  I  came  by 
the  doors- of  the  hall,  another  sound  arrested  me,  of  voices 
talking.  I  drew  nearer  and  stood  like  a  man  dreaming. 
Here  was  certainly  a  human  voice,  and  that  in  my  own 
master's  house,  and  yet  I  knew  it  not ;  certainly  human 
speech,  and  that  in  my  native  land  ;  and  yet  listen  as  I 
pleased,  I  could  not  catch  one  syllable.  An  old  tale  j 
started  up  in  my  mind  of  a  fairy  wife  (or  perhaps  only  sl\I 
wandering  stranger),  that  came  to  the  place  of  my  father 
some  generations  back,  and  stayed  the  matter  of  a  week, 
talking  often  in  a  tongue  that  signified  nothing  to  the  hear- 
ers ;  and  went  again  as  she  had  come,  under  cloud  of  night, 
leaving  not  so  much  as  a  name  behind  her.    A  little  fear  I 

♦Ordared 
x«5 


156  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

had  but  more  curiosity ;  and  I  opened  the  hall  door,  and 
entered. 

The  supper  things  still  lay  upon  the  table  ;  the  shutters 
were  still  closed,  although  day  peeped  in  the  divisions  ; 
and  the  great  room  was  lighted  only  with  a  single  taper  and 
some  lurching  reverberation  of  the  fire.  Close  in  the 
chimney  sat  two  men.  The  one  that  was  wrapped  in  a 
cloak  and  wore  boots,  I  knew  at  once  :  it  was  the  bird  of 
ill  omen  back  again.  Of  the  other,  who  was  set  close  to  the 
red  embers,  and  made  up  into  a  bundle  like  a  mummy,  I 
could  but  see  that  he  was  an  alien,  of  a  darker  hue  than  any 
man  of  Europe,  very  frailly  built,  with  a  singular  tall  fore- 
head, and  a  secret  eye.  Several  bundles  and  a  small  valise 
were  on  the  floor  ;  and  to  judge  by  the  smallness  of  this 
luggage,  and  by  the  condition  of  the  Master's  boots,  grossly 
patched  by  some  unscrupulous  country  cobbler,  evil  had 
not  prospered. 

He  rose  upon  my  entrance  ;  our  eyes  crossed  ;  and  I 
know  not  why  it  should  have  been,  but  my  courage  rose 
like  a  lark  on  a  May  morning. 

"  Ha  !  "  said  I,  "  is  this  you  ?  " — and  I  was  pleased  with 
the  unconcern  of  my  own  voice. 

1/  "  It  is  even  myself,  worthy  Mackellar,"  says  the  Master. 
\j  "This  time  you  have  brought  the  black  dog  visibly  upon 
your  back,"  I  continued. 

/  "  Referring  to  Secundra  Dass  ?"  asked  the  master.  *•' Let 
'Aie  present  you.     He  is  a  native  gentleman  of  India." 

"  Hum  !  "  said  I.  "  I  am  no  great  lover  either  of  you  or 
your  friends,  Mr.  Bally.  But  I  will  let  a  little  daylight  in 
and  have  a  look  at  you."  And  so  saying,  I  undid  the  shut- 
ters of  the  eastern  window. 

By  the  light  of  the  morning,  I  could  perceive  the  man 
was  changed.  Later,  when  we  were  all  together,  I  was  more 
struck  to  see  how  lightly  time  had  dealt  with  him  ;  but  the 
first  glance  was  otherwise. 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSE.  15 7 

"  You  are  getting  an  old  man,"  said  I. 

A  shade  came  upon  his  face.  *'  If  you  could  see  your- 
self," said  he,  "  you  would  perhaps  not  dwell  upon  the 
topic." 

"  Hut  !  "  I  returned,  "  old  age  is  nothing  to  me.  I  think 
I  have  been  always  old  ;  and  I  am  now,  I  thank  God,  better 
known  and  more  respected.  It  is  not  every  one  that  can  say 
that,  Mr.  Bally  !  The  lines  in  you7'  brow  are  calamities  ; 
your  life  begins  to  close  in  upon  you  like  a  prison  ;  death 
will  soon  be  rapping  at  the  door  ;  and  I  see  not  from  what 
source  you  are  to  draw  your  consolations." 

Here  the  Master  addressed  himself  to  Secundra  Dass  in 
Hindustanee  ;  from  which  I  gathered  (I  freely  confess, 
with  a  high  degree  of  pleasure)  that  my  remarks  annoyed 
him.  All  this  while,  you  may  be  sure,  my  mind  had 
been  busy  upon  other  matters  even  while  I  rallied  my 
enemy ;  and  chiefly  as  to  how  I  should  communicate 
secretly  and  quickly  with  my  lord.  To  this,  in  the  breath- 
ing-space now  given  me,  I  turned  all  the  forces  of  my  mind; 
when  suddenly  shifting  my  eyes,  I  was  aware  of  the  man 
himself  standing  in  the  doorway,  and  to  all  appearance 
quite  composed.  He  had  no  sooner  met  my  looks  than  he 
stepped  across  the  threshold.  The  master  heard  him  com- 
ing, and  advanced  upon  the  other  side;  about  four  feet  apart, 
these  brothers  came  to  a  full  pause  and  stood  exchanging 
steady  looks,  and  then  my  lord  smiled,  bowed  a  little  for- 
ward, and  turned  briskly  away. 

"  Mackellar,"  says  he,  "  we  must  see  to  breakfast  for 
these  travelers." 

It  was  plain  the  Master  was  a  trifle  disconcerted  ;  but  he 
assumed  the  more  impudence  of  speech  and  manner.  "  I 
am  as  hungry  as  a  hawk,"  says  he.  "  Let  it  be  something 
good,  Henry." 

My  lord  turned  to  him  with  the  same  hard  smile.  "  Lord 
Durrisdeer,"  says  he. 


iS^  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

*'  Oh,  never  in  the  family  ! "  returned  the  Master. 

"  Every  one  in  this  house  renders  me  my  proper  title,** 
says  my  lord.  "  If  it  please  you  to  make  an  exception,  I 
will  leave  you  to  consider  what  appearance  it  will  bear  to 
strangers,  and  whether  it  may  not  be  translated  as  an  effect 
of  impotent  jealousy." 

I  could  have  clapped  my  hands  together  with  delight : 
the  more  so  as  my  lord  left  no  time  for  any  answer,  but, 
bidding  me  with  a  sign  to  follow  him,  went  straight  out  of 
the  hall. 

"  Come  quick,"  says  he,  "  we  have  to  sweep  vermin 
from  the  house."  And  he  sped  through  the  passages  with 
so  swift  a  step  that  I  could  scarce  keep  up  with  him,  straight 
to  the  door  of  John  Paul,  the  which  he  opened  without  sum- 
mons and  walked  in.  John  was  to  all  appearance  sound 
asleep,  but  my  lord  made  no  pretense  of  waking  him. 

"  John  Paul,"  said  he,  speaking  as  quietly  as  ever  I  heard 
him,  "you  served  my  father  long,  or  I  would  pack  you  from 
the  house  like  a  dog.  If  in  half  an  hour's  time  I  find  you 
gone,  you  shall  continue  to  receive  your  wages  in  Edin- 
burgh. If  you  linger  here  or  in  St.  Bride's — old  man,  old 
servant,  and  altogether — I  shall  find  some  very  astonishing 
way  to  make  you  smart  for  your  disloyalty.  Up,  and  be- 
gone. The  door  you  let  them  in  by  will  serve  for  your  de- 
parture. I  do  not  choose  my  son  shall  see  your  face 
again." 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  find  you  bear  the  thing  so  quietly,"  said 
I,  when  we  were  forth  again  by  ourselves. 

"  Quietly  !  "  cries  he,  and  put  my  hand  suddenly  against 
his  heart,  which. struck  upon  his  bosom  like  a  sledge. 

At  this  revelation  I  was  filled  with  wonder  and  fear. 
There  was  no  constitution  could  bear  so  violent  a  strain — 
his  least  of  all,  that  was  unhinged  already  ;  and  I  decided 
in  my  mind  that  we  must  bring  this  monstrous  situation  to 
an  end. 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSE,  159 

"  It  would  be  well,  I  think,  if  I  took  word  to  my  lady," 
said  I.  Indeed,  he  should  have  gone  himself,  but  I  counted 
(not  in  vain)  on  his  indifference. 

"  Aye,"  says  he,  "  do.  I  will  hurry  breakfast  :  we  must 
all  appear  at  the  table,  even  Alexander ;  it  must  appear  we 
are  untroubled." 

I  ran  to  my  lady's  room,  and,  with  no  preparatory  cruelty, 
disclosed  my  news. 

"  My  mind  was  long  ago  made  up,"  said  she.  "  We  must 
make  our  packets  secretly  to-day,  and  leave  secretly  to- 
night. Thank  Heaven,  we  have  another  house  !  The  first 
ship  that  sails  shall  bear  us  to  New  York." 

"  And  what  of  him  ?  "  I  asked. 

*'We  leave  him  Durrisdeer,"  she  cried.  "  Let  him  work 
his  pleasure  upon  that." 

"  Not  so,  by  your  leave,"  said  I.  "  There  shall  be  a  dog 
at  his  heels  that  can  hold  fast.  Bed  he  shall  have,  and 
board,  and  a  horse  to  ride  upon,  if  he  behave  himself  ;  but 
the  keys  (if  you  think  well  of  it,  my  lady)  shall  be  left  in  the 
hands  of  one  Mackellar.  There  will  be  good  care  taken  ; 
trust  him  for  that." 

"  Mr.  Mackellar,"  she  cried,  "  J  thank  you  for  that 
thought !  All  shall  be  left  in  your  hands.  If  we  must  go 
into  a  savage  country,  I  bequeath  it  to  you  to  take  our 
vengeance.  Send  Macconochie  to  St.  Bride's,  to  arrange 
privately  for  horses  and  to  call  the  lawyer.  My  lord  must 
leave  procuration." 

At  that  moment  my  lord  came  to  the  door,  and  we  opened 
our  plan  to  him. 

"  I  will  never  hear  of  it,"  he  cried  ;  "  he  would  think  I 
feared  him.  I  will  stay  in  my  own  house,  please  God,  until 
I  die.  There  lives  not  the  man  can  beard  me  out  of  it. 
Once  and  for  all,  here  I  am  and  here  I  stay,  in  spite  of  all 
the  devils  in  hell."  I  can  give  no  idea  of  the  vehemency  of 
his  words  and  utterance  ;  but  we  both  stood  aghast,  and  I 


i6o  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

in  particular,  who  had  been  a  witness  of  his  former  self- 
restraint. 

My  lady  looked  at  me  with  an  appeal  that  went  to  my 
heart  and  recalled  me  to  my  wits.  I  made  her  a  private 
sign  to  go,  and,  when  my  lord  and  I  were  alone,  went  up  to 
him  where  he  was  racing  to  and  fro  in  one  end  of  the  room 
like  a  half-lunatic,  and  set  my  hand  firmly  on  his  shoulder. 

"  My  lord,"  says  I,  "  I  am  going  to  be  the  plain-dealer 
once  more  ;  if  for  the  last  time,  so  much  the  better,  for  I 
am  grown  weary  of  the  part." 

"  Nothing  will  change  me,"  he  answered.  "  God  forbid  I 
should  refuse  to  hear  you  ;  but  nothing  will  change  me." 
This  he  said  firmly,  with  no  signal  of  the  former  violence, 
which  already  raised  my  hopes. 

"Very  well,"  said  I.  "I  can  afford  to  waste  my  breath." 
I  pointed  to  a  chair,  and  he  sat  down  and  looked  at  me. 
*'I  can  remember  a  time  when  my  lady  very  much  neglected 
you,"  said  I. 

"  I  never  spoke  of  it  while  it  lasted,"  returned  my  lord, 
with  a  high  flush  of  color  ;  "  and  it  is  all  changed  now." 

"  Do  you  know  how  much  ?"  I  said,  "  Do  you  know  how 
much  it  is  all  changed  ?  The  tables  are  turned,  my  lord  ! 
It  is  my  lady  that  now  courts  you  for  a  word,  a  look,  ay  and 
courts  you  in  vain.  Do  you  know  with  whom  she  passes 
her  days  while  you  are  out  gallivanting  in  the  policies  ?  My 
lord,  she  is  glad  to  pass  them  with  a  certain  dry  old  grieve* 
of  the  name  of  Ephraim  Mackellar  ;  and  I  think  you  may  be 
able  to  remember  what  that  means,  for  I  am  the  more  in  a 
mistake  or  you  were  once  driven  to  the  same  company  your- 
self." 

"  Mackellar  !  "  cries  my  lord,  getting  to  his  feet.  "  Oh,  my 
God,  Mackellar !  " 

"It  is  neither  the  name  of  Mackellar  nor  the  name  of 
God  that  can  change  the  truth,"  said  I  ;  "  and  I  am  telling 

*  Land  steward. 


THE  ENEMY  IN  TH^  HOUSE.  i6l 

you  the  fact.  Now,  for  you,  that  suffered  so  much,  to  deal 
out  the  same  suffering  to  another,  is  that  the  part  of  any 
Christian  ?  But  you  are  so  swallowed  up  in  your  new  friend 
that  the  old  are  all  forgotten.  They  are  all  clean  vanished 
from  your  memory.  And  yet  they  stood  by  you  at  the 
darkest  ;  my  lady  not  the  least.  And  does  my  lady  ever 
cross  your  mind  ?  Does  it  ever  cross  your  mind  what  she 
went  through  that  night  ? — or  what  manner  of  a  wife  she  has 
been  to  you  thenceforward  ?— or  in  what  kind  of  a  position 
she  finds  herself  to-day  ?  Never.  It  is  your  pride  to  stay 
and  face  him  out,  and  she  must  stay  along  with  you.  Oh, 
my  lord's  pride — that's  the  great  affair  !  And  yet  she  is  the 
woman,  and  you  are  a  great,  hulking  man  !  She  is  the  woman 
that  you  swore  to  protect ;  and,  more  betoken,  the  own 
mother  of  that  son  of  yours !  " 

"You  are  speaking  very  bitterly,  Mackellar,"  said  he; 
"  but,  the  Lord  knows,  I  fear  you  are  speaking  very  true. 
I  have  not  proved  worthy  of  my  happiness.  Bring  my  lady 
back." 

My  lady  was  waiting  near  at  hand  to  learn  the  issue. 
When  I  brought  her  in,  my  lord  took  a  hand  of  each  of  us 
and  laid  them  both  upon  his  bosom.  "I  have  had  two 
friends  in  my  life,"  said  he.  "  All  the  comfort  ever  I  had, 
it  came  from  one  or  other.  When  you  two  are  in  a  mind,  I 
think  I  would  be  an  ungrateful  dog  " — He  shut  his  mouth 
very  hard,  and  looked  on  us  with  swimming  eyes.  "  Do 
what  ye  like  with  me,"  says  he,  "  only  don't  think  " —  He 
stopped  again.  "  Do  what  ye  please  with  me  :  God  knows 
I  love  and  honor  you."  And  dropping  our  two  hands,  he 
turned  his  back  and  went  and  gazed  out  of  the  window.  But 
my  lady  ran  after,  calling  his  name,  and  threw  herself  upon 
his  neck  in  a  passion  of  weeping. 

I  went  out  and  shut  the  door  behind  me,  and  stood  and 
thanked  God  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 


i62  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

At  the  breakfast  board,  according  to  my  lord's  design,  we 
were  all  met.  The  Master  had  by  that  time  plucked  off  his 
patched  boots  and  made  a  toilet  suitable  to  the  hour ; 
Secundra  Dass  was  no  longer  bundled  up  in  wrappers,  but 
wore  a  decent  plain  black  suit,  which  misbecame  him 
strangely  ;  and  the  pair  were  at  the  great  window  looking 
forth,  when  the  family  entered.  They  turned  ;  and  the 
black  man  (as  they  had  already  named  him  in  the  house) 
bowed  almost  to  his  knees,  but  the  Master  was  for  running 
forward  like  one  of  the  family.  My  lady  stopped  him, 
courtesying  low  from  the  far  end  of  the  hall,  and  keeping 
her  children  at  her  back.  My  lord  was  a  little  in  front  ;  so 
there  were  the  three  cousins  of  Durrisdeer  face  to  face. 
The  hand  of  time  was  very  legible  on  all ;  I  seemed  to  read 
in  their  changed  faces  a  motiento  mori;  and  what  affected 
me  still  more,  it  was  the  wicked  man  that  bore  his  years  the 
andsomqst.  My  lady  was  quite  transfigured  into  the  ma- 
Itron,  a  becoming  woman  for  the  head  of  a  great  tableful  of 
children  and  dependents.  My  lord  was  grown  slack  in  his 
limbs  ;  he  stooped  ;  he  walked  with  a  running  motion,  as 
though  he  had  learned  again  from  Mr.  Alexander  ;  his  face 
was  drawn  ;  it  seemed  a  trifle  longer  than  of  old  ;  and  it 
wore  at  times  a  smile  very  singularly  mingled,  and  which 
(in  my  eyes)  appeared  both  bitter  and  pathetic.  But  the 
Master  still  bore  himself  erect,  although  perhaps  with  effort  ; 
his  brow  barred  about  the  centre  with  imperious  lines,  his 
mouth  set  as  for  command.  He  had  all  the  gravity  and 
something  of  the  splendor  of  Satan  in  the  "  Paradise  Lost." 
I  could  not  help  but  see  the  man  with  admiration,  and  was 
only  surprised  that  I  saw  him  with  so  little  fear. 

But  indeed  (as  long  as  we  were  at  the  table)  it  seemed  as 
if  his  authority  was  quite  vanquished  and  his  teeth  all  drawn. 
We  had  known  him  a  magician  that  controlled  the  elements  ; 
and  here  he  was,  transferred  into  an  ordinary  gentleman, 
chatting  like  his  neighbors  at  the  breakfast  board.     For 


r 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSE.  163 

now  the  father  was  dead,  and  my  lord  and  lady  reconciled, 
in  what  ear  was  he  to  pour  his  calumnies  ?      It  came  upon 
me  in  a  kind  of  vision  how  hugely  I  had  overrated  the  man's, 
subtlety.     He  had  his  malice  still,  he  was   false  as  ever;! 
and,  the  occasion  being  gone  that  made  his  strength,  he^ 
sat  there  impotent  ;  he   was  still  the  viper,  bnt  now  spent 
his  venom  on  a  file.     Two   more  thoughts  occurred  to  me 
while  yet  we  sat  at  breakfast:  the  first,  that  he  was  abashed — 
I  had  almost  said  distressed — to  find  his  wickedness  quite 
unavailing  ;    the  second,  that  perhaps  my  lord  was  in  the 
right,  and  we  did  amiss  to  fly  from  our  dismasted   enemy. 
But  my  poor  master's  leaping  heart  came  in  my  mind,  and 
I  remembered  it  was  for  his  life  we  played  the  coward. 

When  the  meal  was  over,  the  Master  followed  me  to  my 
room,  and,  taking  a  chair  (which  I  had  never  offered  him), 
asked  me  what  was  to  be  done  with  him. 

"Why,  Mr.  Bally,"  said  I,  "the  house  will  still  be  open  to 
you  for  a  time." 

"  For  a  time  ?  "  says  he.  "  I  do  not  know  if  I  quite  take 
your  meaning." 

"It  is  plain  enough,"  said  I.  "We  keep  you  for  our 
reputation  ;  as  soon  as  you  shall  have  publicly  disgraced 
yourself  by  some  of  your  misconduct,  we  shall  pack  you 
forth  again." 

"  You  are  become  an  impudent  rogue,"  said  the  Master, 
bending  his  brows  at  me  dangerously. 

"  I  learned  in  a  good  school,"  I  returned.  "  And  you 
must  have  perceived  yourself,  that  with  my  old  lord's  death 
your  power  is  quite  departed.  I  do  not  fear  you  now,  Mr. 
Bally  ;  I  think  even — God  forgive  me — that  I  take  a  certain 
pleasure  in  your  company." 

He  broke  out  in  a  burst  of  laughter,  which  I  clearly,  saw 
to  be  assumed. 

"  I  have  come  with  empty  pockets,"  says  he,  after  a 
pause. 


164  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

"  I  do  not  think  there  will  be  any  money  going,"  I  replied. 
"  I  would  advise  you  not  to  build  on  that." 

"  I  shall  have  something  to  say  on  the  point,"  he  returned. 

"  Indeed  ? "  said  I.  "  I  have  not  a  guess  what  it  will  be, 
then." 

"  Oh,  you  affect  confidence,"  said  the  Master.  "  I  have 
still  one  strong  position, — that  you  people  fear  a  scandal, 
and  I  enjoy  it." 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Bally,"  says  I.  "  We  do  not  in  the 
least  fear  a  scandal  against  you." 

He  laughed  again.  "  You  have  been  studying  repartee," 
he  said.  ''  But  speech  is  very  easy,  and  sometimes  very 
deceptive.  I  warn  you  fairly  :  you  will  find  me  vitriol  in 
the  house.  You  would  be  wiser  to  pay  money  down,  and 
see  my  back."  And  with  that,  he  waved  his  hand  to  me 
and  left  the  room. 

A  little  after,  my  lord  came  with  the  lawyer,  Mr.  Carlyle  ; 
a  bottle  of  old  wine  was  brought,  and  we  all  had  a  glass 
before  we  fell  to  business.  The  necessary  deeds  were  then 
prepared  and  executed,  and  the  Scotch  estates  made  over 
in  trust  to  Mr.  Carlyle  and  myself. 

"  There  is  one  point,  Mr.  Carlyle,"  said  my  lord,  when  these 
affairs  had  been  adjusted,  "  on  which  I  wish  that  you  would 
do  us  justice.  This  sudden  departure  coinciding  with  my 
brother's  return  Will  be  certainly  commented  on.  I  wish 
you  would  discourage  any  conjunction  of  the  two." 

"I  will  make  a  point  of  it,  my  lord,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
lyle. "  The  Mas — Mr.  Bally  does  not  then  accompany 
you  ? " 

"  It  is  a  point  T  must  approach,"  said  my  lord.  "  Mr. 
Bally  remains  at  Durrisdeer  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Mackel- 
lar  ;  and  I  do  not  mean  that  he  shall  even  know  our  destina- 
tion." 

"  Common  report,  however—"  began  the  lawyer. 

*•  Ah,  but,  Mr.  Carlyle,  this  is  to  be  a  secret  quite  among 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSE,  1 65 

©urselves,"  interrupted  my  lord.  "  None  but  you  and  Mac- 
kcllar  are  to  be  made  acquainted  witli  my  movements." 

"  And  Mr.  Bally  stays  here  ?  Quite  so,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
lylc.  "  The  powers  you  leave—"  Then  he  broke  off 
again.  "  Mr.  Mackellar,  we  have  a  rather  heavy  weight 
upon  us." 

"No  doubt,  sir,"  said  I. 

"No  doubt,"  said  he.     "  Mr.  Bally  will  have  no  voice  ?  ** 

"He  will  have  no  voice,"  said  my  lord,  "  and  I  hope  no 
influence.     Mr.  Bally  is  not  a  good  adviser." 

"I  see,"  said  the  lawyer.  "By  the  way,  has  Mr.  Bally 
means  ?  " 

"  I  understand  him  to  have  nothing,"  replied  my  lord. 
"  I  give  him  table,  fire,  and  candle  in  this  house." 

"  And  in  the  matter  of  an  allowance  ? — If  I  am  to  share  the 
responsibility,  you  will  see  how  highly  desirable  it  is  that  I 
should  understand  your  views,"  said  the  lawyer.  "  On  the 
question  of  an  allowance  ?  " 

"  There  will  be  no  allowance,"  said  my  lord.  "  I  wish 
Mr.  Bally  to  live  very  private.  We  have  not  always  been 
gratified  with  his  behavior." 

"  And  in  the  matter  of  money,"  I  added,  "  he  has  shown 
himself  an  infamous  bad  husband.  Glance  your  eye  upon 
that  docket,  Mr.  Carlyle,  where  I  have  brought  together  the 
different  sums  the  man  has  drawn  from  the  estate  in  the 
last  fifteen  or  twenty  years.     The  total  is  pretty." 

Mr.  Carlyle  made  the  motion  of  whistling.  "  I  had  no 
guess  of  this,"  said  he.  "  Excuse  me  once  more,  my  lord, 
if  I  appear  to  push  you  ;  but  it  is  really  desirable  I  should 
penetrate  your  intentions  :  Mr.  Mackellar  might  die,  when 
I  should  find  myself  alone  upon  this  trust.  Would  it  not 
be  rather  your  lordship's  preference  that  Mr.  Bally  should — 
ahem — should  leave  the  country?" 

My  lord  looked  at  Mr.  Carlyle.  "Why  do  you  ask 
that?  "said  he. 


l66  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

**  I  gather,  my  lord,  that  Mr.  Bally  is  not  ^  comfort  to  his 
family,"  says  the  lawyer  with  a  smile. 

My  lord's  face  became  suddenly  knotted.  "  I  wish  he 
was  in  hell,"  cried  he,  and  filled  himself  a  glass  of  wine, 
but  with  a  hand  so  tottering  that  he  spilled  the  half  into  his 
bosom.  This  was  the  second  time  that,  in  the  midst  of  the 
most  regular  and  wise  behavior,  his  animosity  had  spirted 
out.  It  startled  Mr.  Carlyle,  who  observed  my  lord  thence- 
forth with  covert  curiosity,  and  to  me  it  restored  the  cer- 
tainty that  we  were  acting  for  the  best  in  view  of  my  lord's 
health  and  reason. 

Except  for  this  explosion,  the  interview  was  very  success- 
fully conducted.  No  doubt  Mr.  Carlyle  would  talk  ;  as 
lawyers  do,  little  by  little.  We  could  thus  feel  we  had  laid 
the  foundations  of  a  better  feeling  in  the  country  ;  and  the 
man's  own  misconduct  would  certainly  complete  what  we 
had  begun.  Indeed,  before  his  departure,  the  lawyer 
showed  us  there  had  already  gone  abroad  some  glimmer- 
ings of  the  truth. 

"  I  should  perhaps  explain  to  you,  my  lord,"  said  he, 
pausing,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  "  that  I  have  not  been  alto- 
gether surprised  with  your  lordship's  dispositions  in  the 
case  of  Mr.  Bally.  Something  of  this  nature  oozed  out 
when  he  was  last  in  Durrisdeer.  There  was  some  talk  of 
a  woman  at  St.  Bride's,  to  whom  you  had  behaved  extrem.ely 
handsome,  and  Mr.  Bally  with  no  small  degree  of  cruelty. 
There  was  the  entail  again,  which  was  much  controverted. 
In  short,  there  was  no  want  of  talk,  back  and  forward  ;  and 
some  of  our  wiseacres  took  up  a  strong  opinion.  I  re- 
mained in  suspense,  as  became  one  of  my  cloth  ;  but  Mr. 
Mackellar's  docket  here  has  finally  opened  my  eyes.  I  do 
not  think,  Mr.  Mackellar,  that  you  and  I  will  give  him  that 
much  rope." 

The  rest    of  that  important  day  passed  prosperously 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSE,  1^7 

through.  It  was  our  policy  to  keep  the  enemy  in  view, 
and  I  took  my  turn  to  be  his  watchman  with  the  rest.  I 
think  his  spirits  rose  as  he  perceived  us  to  be  so  attentive  : 
and  I  know  that  mine  insensibly  declined.  What  chiefly 
daunted  me  was  the  man's  singular  dexterity  to  worm 
himself  into  our  troubles.  You  may  have  felt  (after  a 
horse  accident)  the  hand  of  a  bone-setter  artfully  divide 
and  interrogate  the  muscles,  and  settle  strongly  on  the 
injured  place  ?  It  was  so  with  the  Master's  tongue  that 
was  so  cunning  to  question,  and  his  eyes  that  were  so 
quick  to  observe.  I  seemed  to  have  said  nothing,  and  yet 
to  have  let  all  out.  Before  I  knew  where  I  was,  the  man 
was  condoling  with  me  on  my  lord's  neglect  of  my  lady  and 
myself,  and  his  hurtful  indulgence  to  his  son.  On  this  last 
point  I  perceived  him  (with  panic  fear)  to  return  repeat- 
edly. The  boy  had  displayed  a  certain  shrinking  from  his 
uncle  ;  it  was  strong  in  my  mind  his  father  had  been  fool 
enough  to  indoctrinate  the  same,  which  was  no  wise  begin- 
ning ;  and  when  I  looked  upon  the  man  before  me,  still  so 
handsome,  so  apt  a  speaker,  with  so  great  a  variety  of  for- 
tunes to  relate,  I  saw  he  was  the  very  personage  to  capti- 
vate a  boyish  fancy.  John  Paul  had  left  only  that  morning  ; 
it  was  not  to  be  supposed  he  had  been  altogether  dumb 
upon  his  favorite  subject :  so  that  here  would  be  Mr.  Alex-  / 
ander  in  the  part  of  Dido,  with  a  curiosity  inflamed  to  hear  il 
and  there  would  be  the  Master  like  a  diabolical  ^neas,  full  , 
of  matter  the  most  pleasing  in  the  world  to  any  youthfulj  , 
ear,  such  as  battles,  sea-disasters,  flights,  the  forests  of  the*/ 
west,  and  (since  his  later  voyage)  the  ancient  cities  of  the 
Indies.  How  cunningly  these  baits  might  be  employed, 
and  what  an  empire  might  be  so  founded,  little  by  little,  in 
the  mind  of  any  boy,  stood  obviously  clear  to  me.  There 
was  no  inhibition,  so  long  as  the  man  was  in  the  house,  that 
would  be  strong  enough  to  hold  these  two  apart  ;  for  if  it 
be  hard  to  charm  serpents,  it  is  no  very  difficult  thing  to 


l68  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

cast  a  glamour  on  a  little  chip  of  manhood  not  very  long  in 
breeches.     I  recalled  an  ancient  sailor-man  who  dwelt  in  a 

E^'jone  house  beyond  the  Figgate  Whins  (I  believe  he  called 
it  after  Portobello),  and  how  the  boys  would  troop  out  of 

,;Leith  on  a  Saturday,  and  sit  and  listen  to  his  swearing  tales, 
as  thick  as  crows  about  a  carrion  :  a  thing  I  often  remarked 
as  I  went  by,  a  young  student,  on  my  own  more  meditative 
holiday  diversion.  Many  of  these  boys  went,  no  doubt,  in  the 
face  of  an  express  command  ;  many  feared  and  even  hated 
the  old  brute  of  whom  they  made  their  hero  ;  and  I  have  seen 
them  flee  from  him  when  he  was  tipsy,  and  stone  him  when 
he  was  drunk.  And  yet  there  they  came  each  Saturday  ! 
-How  much  more  easily  would  a  boy  like  Mr.  Alexander  fall 

./under  the  influence  of  a  high-looking,  high-spoken  gentle- 
man-adventurer, who  should  conceive  the  fancy  to  entrap 
him  ;  and,  the  influence  gained,  how  easy  to  em.ploy  it  for 
the  child's  perversion  ! 

I  doubt  if  our  enemy  had  named  Mr.  Alexander  three 
times  before  I  perceived  which  way  his  mind  was  aiming, — 
all  this  train  of  thought  and  memory  passed  in  one  pulsa- 
tion through  my  own, — and  you  may  say  I  started  back  as 
though  an  open  hole  had  gaped  across  a  pathway.  Mr. 
Alexander ;  there  was  the  weak  point,  there  was  the  Eve  in 
our  perishable  paradise  ;  and  the  serpent  was  already  hissing 
on  the  trail. 

I  promise  you  I  went  the  more  heartily  about  the  prepara- 
tions ;  my  last  scruple  gone,  the  danger  of  delay  written 
before  me  in  huge  characters.  From  that  moment  forth  I 
sefem  not  to  have  sat  down  or  breathed.  Now  I  would  be 
at  my  post  with  the  Master  and  his  Indian  ;  now  in  the 
garret  buckling  a  valise  ;  now  sending  forth  Macconochie 
by  the  side  postern  and  the  woodpath  to  bear  it  to  the 
trysting  place ;  and  again,  snatching  some  words  of  counsel 
with  my  lady.  This  was  the  ■uerso  of  our  life  in  Durrisdeer 
that  day  ;  but  on  the  recto  all  appeared  quite  settled,  as  of 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSE.  169 

a.  family  at  home  in  its  paternal  seat ;  and  what  perturba- 
tion may  have  been  observable  the  Master  would  set  down 
to  the  blow  of  his  unlooked-for  coming  and  the  fear  he  was 
accustomed  to  inspire. 

Supper  went  creditably  off,  cold  salutations  passed,  and 
the  company  trooped  to  their  respective  chambers.  I  at- 
tended the  Master  to  the  last.  We  had  put  him  next  door 
to  his  Indian,  in  the  north  wing,  because  that  was  the  most 
distant,  and  could  be  severed  from  the  body  of  the  house 
with  doors.  I  saw  he  was  a  kind  friend  or  a  good  master 
(whichever  it  was)  to  his  Secundra  Dass  ;  seeing  to  his 
comfort ;  mending  the  fire  with  his  own  hand,  for  the  Indian 
complained  of  cold  ;  inquiring  as  to  the  rice  on  which  the 
stranger  made  his  diet ;  talking  with  him  pleasantly  in  the 
Hindustanee,  while  I  stood  by,  my  candle  in  my  hand,  and 
affected  to  be  overcome  with  slumber.  At  length  the  Mas- 
ter observed  my  signals  of  distress.  "  I  perceive,"  says  he, 
"  that  you  have  all  your  ancient  habits  :  early  to  bed  and 
early  to  rise.     Yawn  yourself  away  ! " 

Once  in  my  own  room,  I  made  the  customary  motions  of 
undressing,  so  that  I  might  time  myself  ;  and  when  the 
cycle  was  complete  set  my  tinder-box  ready  and  blew  out 
my  taper.  The  matter  of  an  hour  afterward  I  made  a  light 
again,  put  on  my  shoes  of  list  that  I  had  worn  by  my  lord's 
sick-bed,  and  set  forth  into  the  house  to  call  the  voyagers. 
All  were  dressed  and  waiting, — my  lord,  my  lady,  Miss| 
Katharine,  Mr.  Alexander,  my  lady's  woman  Christie  ;  and' 
I  observed  the  effect  of  secrecy  even  upon  quite  innocent 
persons,  that  one  after  another  showed  in  the  chink  of  the 
door  a  face  as  white  as  paper.  We  slipped  out  of  the  side 
postern  into  a  night  of  darkness,  scarce  broken  by  a  star  or 
two ;  so  that  at  first  we  groped  and  stumbled  and  fell 
among  the  bushes.  A  few  hundred  yards  up  the  wood-path 
Macconochie  was  waiting  us  with  a  great  lantern,  so  the 
rest  of  the  way  we  went  easy  enough,  but  still  in  a  kind  of 


1 70  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAB, 

guilty  silence.  A  little  beyond  the  abbey  the  path  de- 
bouched on  the  main  road,  and  some  quarter  of  a  mile 
farther,  at  the  place  called  Eagles,  where  the  moors  begin, 
we  saw  the  lights  of  the  two  carriages  stand  shining  by  the 
wayside.  Scarce  a  word  or  two  was  uttered  at  our  parting, 
and  these  regarded  business  :  a  silent  grasping  of  hands, 
a  turning  of  faces  aside,  and  the  thing  was  over  ;  the  horses 
broke  into  a  trot,  the  lamplight  sped  like  Will  o'  the  Wisp 
upon  the  broken  moorland,  it  dipped  beyond  Stony  Brae  ; 

,  /and  there  were  Macconochie  and  I  alone  with  our  lantern 
on  the  road.  There  was  one  thing  more  to  wait  for,  and 
that  was  the  reappearance  of  the  coach  upon  Cartmore.  It 
seems  they  must  have  pulled  up  upon  the  summit,  looked 
back  for  a  last  time,  and  seen  our  lantern  not  yet  moved 
away  from  the  place  of  separation.  For  a  lamp  was  taken 
from  a  carriage,  and  waved  three  times  up  and  down  by 
way  of  a  farewell.  And  then  they  were  gone  indeed,  hav- 
ing looked  their  last  on  the  kind  roof  of  Durrisdeer,  their 
faces  toward  a  barbarous  country.  I  never  knew,  before, 
the  greatness  of  that  vault  of  night  in  which  we  two  poor 
^i  serving-men,  the  one  old  and  the  one  elderly,  stood  for 
the  first  time  deserted.     I  had  never  felt,  before,  my  own 

^./dependency  upon  the  countenance  of  others.  The  sense 
of  isolation  burned  in  my  bowels  like  a  fire.  It  seemed 
that  we  who  remained  at  home  were  the  true  exiles  ;  and 
that  Durrisdeer,  and  Solwayside,  and  all  that  made  my 
country  native,  its  air  good  to  me,  and  its  language  wel- 
come, had  gone  forth  and  was  for  over  the  sea  with  my  old 
masters. 

The  remainder  of  that  night  I  paced  to  and  fro  on  the 
smooth  highway,  reflecting  on  the  future  and  the  past.  My 
thoughts,  which  at  first  dwelled  tenderly  on  those  who 
were  just  gone,  took  a  more  manly  temper  as  I  considered 
what  remained  for  me  to  do.  Day  came  upon  the  inland 
ynountain-tops,  and  the  fowls  began  to  cry  and  the  smoke 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSE.  17 1 

of  homesteads  to  arise  in  the  brown  bosom  of  the  moors, 
before  I  turned  my  face  homeward  and  went  down  the  path 
to  where  the  roof  of  Durrisdeer  shone  in  the  morning  by 
the  sea. 

At  the  customary  hour  I  had  the  Master  called,  and 
awaited  his  coming  in  the  hall  with  a  quiet  mind.  He 
looked  about  him  at  the  empty  room  and  the  three  covers 
set. 

"  We  are  a  small  party,"  said  he.     "  How  comes  that  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  party  to  which  we  must  grow  accustomed," 
I  replied. 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  sudden  sharpness.  "  What  is  all 
this  ? "  said  he. 

"You  and  I  and  your  friend  Mr.  Dass  are  now  all  the  j 
company,"  1  replied.  "  My  lord,  my  lady,  and  the  children vy 
are  gone  upon  a  voyage." 

"  Upon  my  word  !  "  said  he.  "  Can  this  be  possible  ?  I 
have  indeed  fluttered  your  Volscians  in  Corioli  I  But  this 
is  no  reason  why  our  breakfast  should  go  cold.  Sit  down, 
Mr.  Mackellar,  if  you  please  " — taking,  as  he  spoke,  the 
head  of  the  table,  which  I  had  designed  to  occupy  my- 
self— "  and  as  we  eat,  you  can  give  me  the  details  of  this 
evasion." 

I  could  see  he  was  more  affected  than  his  language  car- 
ried, and  I  determined  to  equal  him  in  coolness.  "I  was 
about  to  ask  you  to  take  the  head  of  the  table,"  said  I ; 
'*  for  though  I  am  now  thrust  into  the  position  of  your  host, 
I  could  never  forget  that  you  were,  after  all,  a  member  of 
the  family." 

For  a  while  he  played  the  part  of  entertainer,  giving 
directions  to  Macconochie,  who  received  them  with  an  evil 
grace,  and  attending  specially  upon  Secundra.  "And 
where  has  my  good  family  withdrawn  to  ?  "  he  asked  care- 
lessly. 


172  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Bally,  that  is  another  point !  "  said  I.  "I  havt 
no  orders  to  communicate  their  destination." 

''  To  me,"  he  corrected. 

**  To  any  one,"  said  I. 

*'  It  is  the  less  pointed,"  said  the  master  ;  '■^  c'estde  bon  ton: 
my  brother  improves  as  he  continues.  And  I,  dear  Mr. 
Mackellar?" 

''  You  will  have  bed  and  board,  Mr.  Bally,"  said  I.  "  I 
am  permitted  to  give  you  the  run  of  the  cellar,  which  is 
pretty  reasonably  stocked.  You  have  only  to  keep  well 
with  me,  which  is  no  very  difficult  matter,  and  you  shall 
want  neither  for  wine  nor  a  saddle-horse." 

He  made  an  excuse  to  send  Macconochie  from  the  room. 

''And  for  money  ?  "  he  inquired.  ''  Have  I  to  keep  well 
with  my  good  friend  Mackellar  for  my  pocket-money  also  ? 
This  is  a  pleasing  return  to  the  principles  of  boyhood." 

"  There  was  no  allowance  made,"  said  I ;  "  but  I  will  take 
it  on  myself  to  see  you  are  supplied  in  moderation." 

"  In  moderation?  "  he  repeated.  "  And  you  will  take  it 
on  yourself?"  He  drew  himself  up  and  looked  about  the 
hall  at  the  dark  row  of  portraits.  "  In  the  name  of  my 
ancestors,  I  thank  you,"  says  he  ;  and  then,  with  a  return  to 
irony  :  "  But  there  must  certainly  be  an  allowance  for 
Secundra  Dass  ?  "  he  said.  "  It  is  not  possible  they  have 
omitted  that." 

"  I  will  make  a  note  of  it  and  ask  instructions  when  I 
write,"  said  I. 

And  he,  with  a  sudden  change  of  manner,  and  leaning 
forward  with  an  elbow  on  the  table  :  "  Do  you  think  this 
entirely  wise  ? " 

"  I  execute  my  orders,  Mr.  Bally,"  said  I. 

"  Profoundly  modest,"  said  the  Master:  "  perhaps  not 
equally  ingenuous.  You  told  me  yesterday  my  power  was 
fallen  with  my  father's  death.  How  comes  it,  then,  that  a 
peer  of  the  realm  flees  under  cloud  of  night  out  of  a  house 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSE,  173 

in  which  his  fathers  have  stood  several  sieges  ?  that  he  con- 
ceals his  address,  which  must  be  a  matter  of  concern  to  his 
Gracious  Majesty  and  to  the  whole  republic?  and  that  he 
should  leave  me  in  possession,  and  under  the  paternal 
charge  of  his  invaluable  Mackellar  ?  This  smacks  to  me 
of  a  very  considerable  and  genuine  apprehension," 

I  sought  to  interrupt  him  with  some  not  very  truthful 
denegation ;  but  he  waved  me  down  and  pursued  his 
speech. 

"  I  say  it  smacks  of  it,"  he  said,  "  but  I  will  go  beyond 
that,  for  I  think  the  apprehension  grounded.  I  came  to 
this  house  with  some  reluctancy.  In  view  of  the  manner 
of  my  last  departure,  nothing  but  necessity  could  have  in-  , 
duced  me  to  return.  Money,  however,  is  that  which  I  must  / 
have.  You  will  not  give  with  a  good  grace ;  well,  I  have 
the  power  to  force  it  from  you.  Inside  of  a  week,  without 
leaving  Durrisdeer,  I  will  find  out  where  these  fools  are 
fled  to.  I  will  follow  ;  and  when  I  have  run  my  quarry 
down,  I  will  drive  a  wedge  into  that  family  that  shall  once 
more  burst  it  into  shivers.  I  shall  see  then  whether  my 
Lord  Durrisdeer  "  (said  with  indescribable  scorn  and  rage) 
"  will  choose  to  buy  my  absence  ;  and  you  will  all  see  whether, 
by  that  time,  I  decide  for  profit  or  revenge."         -- 

I  was  amazed  to  hear  the  man  so  open.  The  truth  is,  he 
was  consumed  with  anger  at  my  lord's  successful  flight,  felt 
himself  to  figure  as  a  dupe,  and  was  in  no  humor  to  weigh 
language. 

"Do  you  consider  this  entirely  wise  ?"  said  I,  copying 
his  words. 

"  These  twenty  years  I  have  lived  by  my  poor  wisdom," 
he  answered,  with  a  smile  that  seemed  almost  foolish  in  its 
vanity. 

"  And  come  out  a  beggar  in  the  end,"  said  I,  "  if  beggar 
be  a  strong  enough  word  for  it." 

"  I  would  have  you  to  observe,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  cried  he, 


174  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

with  ^  sudden,  imperious  heat  in  which  I  could  not  but 
admire  him,  "  that  I  am  scrupulously  civil  :  copy  me  in  that, 
and  we  shall  be  the  better  friends." 

Throughout  this  dialogue  I  had  been  incommoded  by  the 
observation  of  Secundra  Dass.  Not  one  of  us,  since  the 
first  word,  had  made  a  feint  of  eating  :  our  eyes  were  in 
each  other's  faces — you  might  say,  in  each  other's  bosoms  ; 
and  those  of  the  Indian  troubled  me  with  a  certain  changing 
brightness,  as  of  comprehension.  But  I  brushed  the  fancy 
aside  :  telling  myself  once  more  he  understood  no  English  ^ 
only,  from  the  gravity  of  both  voices  and  the  occasional 
scorn  and  anger  in  the  Master's,  smelled  out  there  was 
something  of  import  in  the  wind. 

For  the  matter  of  three  weeks  we  continued  to  live 
together  in  the  house  of  Durrisdeer  :  the  beginning  of  that 
most  singular  chapter  of  my  life — what  I  must  call  my  inti- 
macy with  the  Master.  At  first  he  was  somewhat  changeable 
in  his  behavior  :  novv  civil,  now  returning  to  his  old  manner 
of  flouting  me  to  my  face  ;  and  in  both  I  met  him  half-way. 
Thanks  be  to  Providence,  I  had  now  no  measure  to  keep 
with  the  man  ;  and  I  was  never  afraid  of  black  brows,  only 
of  naked  swords.  So  that  I  found  a  certain  entertainment 
in  these  bouts  of  incivility,  and  was  not  always  ill-inspired 
in  my  rejoinders.  At  last  (it  was  at  supper)  I  had  a  droll 
expression  that  entirely  vanquished  him.  He  laughed 
again  and  again  ;  and  "  Who  would  have  guessed,"  he  cried, 
"that  this  old  wife  had  any  wit  under  his  petticoats  ? " 

"  It  is  no  wit,  Mr.  Bally,"  said  I  :  "a  dry  Scot's  humor, 
and  something  of  the  driest."  And  indeed  I  never  had  the 
least  pretension  to  be  thought  a  wit. 

From  that  hour  he  was  never  rude  with  me,  but  all  passed 
between  us  in  a  manner  of  pleasantry.  One  of  our  chief 
times  of  daffing  *  was  when  he  required  a  horse,  another 

*  Fooling, 


THE  ENEMY  IM  THE  HOUSE.  17S 

bottle,  or  some  money  ;  he  would  approach  me  then  after 
the  manner  of  a  school-boy,  and  I  would  carry  it  on  by  way 
of  being  his  father  :  on  both  sides,  with  an  infinity  of  mirth. 
I  could  not  but  perceive  that  he  thought  more  of  me,  which 
tickled  that  poor  part  of  mankind,  the  vanity.  He  dropped 
besides  (I  must  suppose  unconsciously)  into  a  manner  that 
was  not  only  familiar,  but  even  friendly  ;  and  this,  on  the 
part  of  one  who  had  so  long  detested  me,  I  found  the  more 
insidious.  He  went  little  abroad  ;  sometimes  even  refusing 
invitations.  "  No,"  he  would  say,  '*  what  do  I  care  for 
these  thick-headed  bonnet-lairds  ?  I  will  stay  at  home, 
Mackellar  ;  and  we  shall  share  a  bottle  quietly  and  have  one 
of  our  good  talks."  And  indeed  meal-time  at  Durrisdeer 
must  have  been  a  delight  to  any  one,  by  reason  of  the 
brilliancy  of  the  discourse.  He  would  often  express  won- 
der at  his  former  indifference  to  my  society.  "  But  you  see," 
he  would  add,  "  we  were  upon  opposite  sides.  And  so  we 
are  to-day  ;  but  let  us  never  speak  of  that.  I  would  think 
much  less  of  you  if  you  were  not  stanch  to  your  employer." 
You  are  to  consider,  he  seemed  to  me  quite  impotent  for 
any  evil ;  and  how  it  is  a  most  engaging  form  of  flattery 
when  (after  many  years)  tardy  justice  is  done  to  a  man's 
character  and  parts.  But  I  have  no  thought  to  excuse  my- 
self. I  was  to  blame  ;  I  let  him  cajole  me  ;  and,  in  short, 
I  think  the  watch-dog  was  going  sound  asleep,  when  he  was 
suddenly  aroused. 

I  should  say  the  Indian  was  continually  traveling  to  and 
fro  in  the  house.  He  never  spoke,  save  in  his  own  dialect 
and  with  the  Master ;  walked  without  sound  ;  and  was 
always  turning  up  where  you  would  least  expect  him  fallen 
into  a  deep  abstraction,  from  which  he  would  start  (upon 
your  coming)  to  mock  you  with  one  of  his  groveling 
obeisances.  He  seemed  so  quiet,  so  frail,  and  so  wrapped 
in  his  own  fancies,  that  I  came  to  pass  him  over  without 
much  regard,  or  even  to  pity  him  for  a  harmless  exile  from 


« 

c/i 


176  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

his  country.  And  yet  without  doubt  the  creature  was  still 
eavesdropping ;  and  without  doubt  it  was  through  his 
stealth  and  my  security  that  our  secret  reached  the  Master. 

It  was  one  very  wild  night,  after  supper,  and  when 
we  had  been  making  more  than  usually  merry,  that  the 
blow  fell  on  me. 

"  This  is  all  very  fine,"  says  the  Master,  "  but  we  should 
do  better  to  be  buckling  our  valise." 

"  Why  so  ? "  I  cried.     "  Are  you  leaving  ?  " 

**  We  are  all  leaving  to-morrow  in  the  morning,"  said  he. 
^*  For  the  port  of  Glascow  first :  thence  for  the  province  of 
New  York." 

I  suppose  I  must  have  groaned  aloud. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  **  I  boasted  :  I  said  a  week,  and  it 
has  taken  me  near  twenty  days.  But  never  mind  :  I  shall 
make  it  up  ;  I  will  go  the  faster." 

"Have  you  the  money  for  this  voyage?"  I  asked. 

"  Dear  and  ingenuous  personage,  I  have,"  said  he. 
"  Blame  me,  if  you  choose,  for  my  duplicity  ;  but  while  I 
have  been  wringing  shillings  from  my  daddy,  I  had  a  stock 
of  my  own  put  by  against  a  rainy  day.  You  will  pay  for 
your  own  passage,  if  you  choose  to  accompany  us  on  our 
flank  march  ;  I  have  enough  for  Secundra  and  myself,  but 
not  more  :  enough  to  be  dangerous,  not  enough  to  be  gene- 
rous. There  is,  however,  an  outside  seat  upon  the  chaise 
which  I  will  let  you  have  upon  a  moderate  commutation  ; 
so  that  the  whole  menagerie  can  go  together,  the  house-dog, 
the  monkey,  and  the  tiger." 

"  I  go  with  you,"  said  I. 

"  I  count  upon  it,"  said  the  Master.  "  You  have  seen  me 
.foiled,  I  mean  you  shall  see  me  victorious.  To  gain  that, 
^I  will  risk  wetting  you  like  a  sop  in  this  wild  weather." 

"  And  at  least,"  I  added,  "  you  know  very  well  you  could 
not  throw  me  off." 

"  Not  easily,"  said  he.    "  You  put  your  finger  on  the 


THE  EN  EM  V  IN  THE  HO  USE,  1 7  7 

point  with  your  usual  excellent  good  sense.  I  never  fight 
with  the  inevitable." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  useless  to  appeal  to  you,"  said  I. 

*'  Believe  me,  perfectly,"  said  he. 

"  And  yet  if  you, would  give  me  time,  I  could  write — "  I 
began. 

"  And  what  would  be  my  Lord  Durrisdeer's  answer  ? " 
asks  he. 

*'Aye,"  said  I,  "that  is  the  rub." 

"  And  at  any  rate,  how  much  more  expeditious  that  I 
should  go  myself  !  "  says  he.  "  But  all  this  is  quite  a  waste 
of  breath.  At  seven  to-morrow  the  chaise  will  be  at  the 
door.  For  I  start  from  the  door,  Mackellar  ;  'I  do  not  skulk 
through  woods  and  take  my  chaise  upon  the  wayside — 
shall  we  say,  at  Eagle's  ?  " 

My  mind  was  now  thoroughly  made  up.  "  Can  you  spare 
me  quarter  of  an  hour  at  St.  Bride's  ?  "  said  I.  "  I  have  a 
little  necessary  business  with  Carlyle." 

"  An  hour  if  you  prefer,"  said  he.  "  I  do  not  seek  to 
deny  that  the  money  for  your  seat  is  an  object  to  me  ;  and 
you  could  always  get  the  first  to  Glascow  with  saddle- 
horses." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "I  never  thought  to  leave  old  Scotland." 

"  It  will  brisken  you  up,"  says  he. 

"This  will  be  an  ill  journey  for  some  one,"  I  said.  "  I 
think,  sir,  for  you.  Something  speaks  in  my  bosom ;  and 
so  much  it  says  plain  :  That  this  is  an  ill-omened  journey." 

"  If  you  take  to  prophecy,"  says  he,  "  listen  to  that." 

There  came  up  a  violent  squall  off  the  open  Solway,  and 
the  rain  was  dashed  on  the  great  windows. 

"  Do  ye  ken  what  that  bodes,  warlock  ? "  said  he,  in  a 
broad  accent  :  "that  there'll  be  a  man  Mackellar  unco  sick 
at  sea." 

When  I  got  to  my  chamber,  I  sat  there  under  a  painful 
excitation,  hearkening  to  the  turmoil   of  the  gale  which 


178  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

Struck  full  upon  that  gable  of  the  house.  What  with  the 
pressure  on  my  spirits,  the  eldritch  cries  of  the  wind  among 
the  turret-tops,  and  the  perpetual  trepidation  of  the  masoned 
house,  sleep  fled  my  eyelids  utterly.  I  sat  by  my  taper, 
looking  on  the  black  panes  of  the  window  where  the  storm 
appeared  continually  on  the  point  of  bursting  in  its  en- 
trance ;  and  upon  that  empty  field  I  beheld  a  perspective 
of  consequences  that  made  the  hair  to  rise  upon  my  scalp. 
The  child  corrupted,  the  home  broken  up,  my  master  dead 
or  worse  than  dead,  my  mistress  plunged  in  desolation, — all 
these  I  saw  before  me  painted  brightly  on  the  darkness ; 
and  the  outcry  of  the  wind  appeared  to  mock  at  my  inac- 
tion. 


MR.   MACKELLAR'S   JOURNEY  WITH   THE 
MASTER. 

The  chaise  came  to  the  door  in  a  strong  drenching  mist. 

We  took  our  leave  in  silence  :  the  house  of  Durrisdeer 
standing  with  dropping  gutters  and  windows  closed,  like  a 
place  dedicate  to  melancholy.  I  observed  the  Master  kept 
his  head  out,  looking  back  on  these  splashed  walls  and 
glimmering  roofs,  till  they  were  swallowed  in  the  mist;  and  I 
must  suppose  some  natural  sadness  fell  upon  the  man  at 
this  departure ;  or  was  it  some  prevision  of  the  end  ?  At 
least,  upon  our  mounting  the  long  brae  from  Durrisdeer,  as 
we  walked  side  by  side  in  the  wet,  he  began  first  to  whistle 
and  then  to  sing  the  saddest  of  our  country  tunes,  which 
sets  folk  a-weeping  in  a  tavern,  "  Wandering  Willie."  The 
set  of  words  he  used  with  it  I  have  not  heard  elsewhere, 
and  could  never  come  by  any  copy  ;  but  some  of  them  which 
were  the  most  appropriate  to  our  departure  linger  in  my 
memory.     One  verse  began  : 

Home  was  home  then,  my  dear,  full  of  kindly  faces  ; 
Home  was  then,  my  dear,  happy  for  the  child. 

And  ended  somewhat  thus  : 

Now,  when  day  dawns  on  the  brow  of  the  moorland. 
Lone  stands  the  house  and  the  chimney-stone  is  cold. 

Lone  let  it  stand,  now  the  folks  are  all  departed. 

The  kind  hearts,  the  true  hearts,  that  loved  the  place  of  old. 

I  could  never  be  a  judge  of  the  merits  of  these  verses  ;  they 
were  so  hallowed  by  the  melancholy  of  the  air,  and  were 
sung  (or  rather  "  soothed  ")  to  me  by  a  master  singer  at  a 

179 


l8o  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

time  so  fitting.  He  looked  in  my  face  when  he  had  done, 
and  saw  that  my  eyes  watered. 

"  Ah,  Mackellar,"  said  he,  "  do  you  think  I  have  never  a 
regret  ? " 

"  I  do  not  think  you  could  be  so  bad  a  man/'  said  I,  "  if 
you  had  not  all  the  machinery  to  be  a  good  one." 

"  No,  not  all,"  says  he  :  "  not  all.  You  are  there  in  error. 
The  malady  of  not  wanting,  my  evangelist."  But  me- 
thought  he  sighed  as  he  mounted  again  into  the  chaise. 

All  day  long  we  journeyed  in  the  same  miserable  weather : 
the  mist  besetting  us  closely,  the  heavens  incessantly  weep- 
ing on  my  head.  The  road  lay  over  moorish  hills,  where 
was  no  sound  but  the  crying  of  moor-fowl  in  the  wet  heather 
and  the  pouring  of  the  swollen  burns.  Sometimes  I  would 
doze  off  in  slumber,  when  I  would  find  myself  plunged  at 
once  in  some  foul  and  ominous  nightmare,  from  the  which  I 
would  awaken  strangling.  Sometimes,  if  the  way  was  steep 
and  the  wheels  turning  slowly,  I  would  overhear  the  voices 
from  within,  talking  in  that  tropical  tongue  which  was  to 
me  as  inarticulate  as  the  piping  of  the  fowls.  Sometimes, 
at  a  longer  ascent,  the  Master  would  set  foot  to  ground 
and  walk  by  my  side,  mostly  without  speech.  And  all  the 
time,  sleeping  or  waking,  I  beheld  the  same  black  perspec- 
tive of  approaching  ruin  ;  and  the  same  pictures  rose  in  my 
view,  only  they  were  now  painted  upon  hillside  mist.  One,. 
I  remember,  stood  before  me  with  the  colors  of  a  true  illu- 
sion. It  showed  me  my  lord  seated  at  a  table  in  a  small 
room  ;  his  head,  which  was  at  first  buried  in  his  hands,  he. 
slowly  raised,  and  turned  upon  me  a  countenance  from 
which  hope  had  fled.  I  saw  it  first  on  the  black  window 
panes,  my  last  night  in  Durrisdeer  ;  it  haunted  and  returned 
upon  me  half  the  voyage  through ;  and  yet  it  was  no  effect 
of  lunacy,  for  I  have  come  to  a  ripe  old  age  with  no  decay 
of  my  intelligence  ;  nor  yet  (as  I  was  then  tempted  to  sup- 
pose) a  heaven- sent  warning  of  the  future,  for  all  manner 


MR.   MACKELLAR'S  JOURNEY.  l8l 

of  calamities  befell,  not  that  calamity — and  I  saw  many 
pitiful  sights,  but  never  that  one. 

It  was  decided  we  should  travel  on  all  night  ;  and  it  was 
singular,  once  the  dusk  had  fallen,  my  spirits  somewhat 
rose.  The  bright  lamps,  shining  forth  into  the  mist  and  on 
the  smoking  horses  and  the  hodding  post-boy,  gave  me 
perhaps  an  outlook  intrinsically  more  cheerful  than  what 
day  had  shown  ;  or  perhaps  my  mind  had  become  wearied 
of  its  melancholy.  At  least  I  spent  some  waking  hours, 
not  without  satisfaction  in  my  thoughts,  although  wet  and 
weary  in  my  body  ;  and  fell  at  last  into  a  natural  slumber 
without  dreams.  Yet  I  must  have  been  at  work  even  in  the 
deepest  of  my  sleep  ;  and  at  work  with  at  least  a  measure 
of  intelligence.  For  I  started  broad  awake,  in  the  very  act 
of  crying  out  to  myself 

Home  was  home  then,  my  dear,  happy  for  the  child, 

stricken  to  find  in  it  an  appropriateness,  which  I  had  not 
yesterday  observed,  to  the  Master's  detestable  purpose  in 
the  present  journey. 

We  were  then  close  upon  the  city  of  Glascow,  where  we    / 
were  soon  breakfasting  together  at  an  inn,  and  where  (as  J 
the  devil  would  have  it)  we  found  a  ship  in  the  very  article 
of  sailing.     We  took  our  places  in  the  cabin  ;  and,  two  days 
after,  carried  our  effects  on  board.     Her  name   was   the 

^Nonesuch,  a  very  ancient  ship  and  very  happily  named.  By 
all  accounts  this  should  be  her  last  voyage  ;  people  shook 
their  heads  upon  the  quays,  and  I  had  several  warnings 
offered  me  by  strangers  in  the  street,  to  the  effect  that  she 

>4jvas  rotten  as  a  cheese,  too  deeply  loaden,  and  must  infalli- 
bly founder  if  we  met  a  gale.     From  this  it  fell  out  we  were 

^  the  only  passengers  ;  the  captain,  McMurtrie,  was  a  silent, 
absorbed  man  with  the  Glascow  or  Gaelic  accent  ;  the 
mates  ignorant,  rough  seafarers,  come  in  through  the  hawse- 
hole  ;  and  the  Master  and  I  were  cast  upon  each  other's 
company. 


l82  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

The  Nonesuch  carri'^d  a  fair  wind  out  of  the  Clyde,  and 
for  near  upon  a  week  we  enjoyed  bright  weather  and  a 
sense  of  progress.  I  found  myself  (to  my  wonder)  a  born 
seaman,  in  so  far  at  least  as  I  was  never  sick  ;  yet  I  was 
far  from  tasting  the  usual  serenity  of  my  health.  Whether 
it  was  the  motion  of  the  ship  on  the  billows,  the  confine- 
ment, the  salted  food,  or  all  of  these  together,  I  suffered 
from  a  blackness  of  spirit  and  a  painful  strain  upon  my 
temper.  The  nature  of  my  errand  on  that  ship  perhaps 
contributed  ;  I  think  it  did  no  more  :  the  malady  (what- 
ever it  was)  sprang  from  my  environment  ;  and  if  the  ship 
were  not  to  blame,  then  it  was  the  Master.  Hatred  and 
fear  are  ill  bedfellows  ;  but  (to  my  shame  be  it  spoken)  I 
have  tasted  those  in  other  places,  lain  down  and  got  up 
with  them,  and  eaten  and  drunk  with  them,  and  yet  never 
before,  nor  after,  have  I  been  so  poisoned  through  and 
through,  in  soul  and  body,  as  I  was  on  board  the  Nonesuch. 
I  freely  confess  my  enemy  set  me  a  fair  example  of  for- 
bearance ;  in  our  worst  days  displayed  the  most  patient 
geniality,  holding  me  in  conversation  as  long  as  I  would 
suffer,  and  when  I  had  rebuffed  his  civility,  stretching  him- 
self on  deck  to  read.  The  book  he  had  on  board  with  him 
yWas  Mr.  Richardson's  famous  Clarissa ;  and  among  other 
small  attentions  he  would  read  me  passages  aloud  ;  nor 
could  any  elocutionist  have  given  with  greater  potency  the 
pathetic  portions  of  that  work.  I  would  retort  upon  him 
with  passages  out  of  the  Bible,  which  was  all  my  library — 
and  very  fresh  to  me,  my  religious  duties  (I  grieve  to  say 
it)  being  always  and  even  to  this  day  extremely  neglected. 
He  tasted  the  merits  of  the  work  like  the  connoisseur  he 
was  ;  and  would  sometimes  take  it  from  my  hand,  turn  the 
leaves  over  like  a  man  that  knew  his  way,  and  give  me,  with 
his  fine  declamation,  a  Roland  for  my  Oliver.  But  it  was 
singular  how  little  he  applied  his  reading  to  himself ;  it 
passed  high  above  his  head  like  summer  thunder  :  Lovelace 


MR.   MACKELLAR'S  JOURNEY.  183 

and  Clarissa,  the  tales  of  David's  generosity,  the  psalms  of 
his  penitence,  the  solemn  questions  of  the  book  of  Job,  the 
touching  poetry  of  Isaiah — they  were  to  him  a  source  of 
entertainment  only,  like  the  scraping  of  a  fiddle  in  a  change- 
house.  This  outer  sensibility  and  inner  toughness  set  me 
against  him  ;  it  seemed  of  a  piece  with  that  impudent 
grossness  which  I  knew  to  underlie  the  veneer  of  his  fine 
manners  ;  and  sometimes  my  gorge  rose  against  him  as 
though  he  were  deformed — and  sometimes  I  would  draw 
away  as  though  from  something  partly  spectral.  I  had 
moments  when  I  thought  of  him  as  of  a  man  of  pasteboard — 
as  though,  if  one  should  strike  smartly  through  the  buckram 
of  his  countenance,  there  would  be  found  a  mere  vacuity 
within.  This  horror  (not  merely  fanciful,  I  think)  vastly 
increased  my  detestation  of  his  neighborhood  ;  I  began  to 
feel  something  shiver  within  me  on  his  drawing  near  ;  I  had 
at  times  a  longing  to  cry  out ;  there  were  days  when  I 
thought  I  could  have  struck  him.  This  frame  of  rpind  was 
doubtless  helped  by  shame,  because  I  had  dropped  during 
our  last  days  at  Durrisdeer  into  a  certain  toleration  of  the 
man  ;  and  if  any  one  had  then  told  me  I  should  drop  into  it 
again,  I  must  have  laughed  in  his  face.  It  is  possible  he 
remained  unconscious  of  this  extreme  fever  of  my  resent- 
ment ;  yet  I  think  he  was  too  quick  ;  and  rather  that  he 
had  fallen,  in  a  long  life  of  idleness,  into  a  positive  need  of 
company,  which  obliged  him  to  confront  and  tolerate  my 
unconcealed  aversion.  Certain  at  least,  that  he  loved  the 
note  of  his  own  tongue,  as  indeed  he  loved  all  the  parts  and 
properties  of  himself  :  a  sort  of  imbecility  which  almost 
necessarily  attends  on  wickedness.  I  have  seen  him  driven, 
when  I  proved  recalcitrant,  to  long  discourses  with  the 
skipper  :  and  this,  although  the  man  plainly  testified  his 
weariness,  fiddling  miserably  with  both  hand  and  foot,  and 
replying  only  with  a  grunt. 
After  the  first  week  out,  we  fell  in  with  foul  winds  and 


1 84  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

heavy  weather.  The  sea  was  high.  The  Nonesuch^  being 
/an  old-fashioned  ship  and  badly  loaden,  rolled  beyond 
belief  ;  so  that  the  skipper  trembled  for  his  masts  and  I  for 
my  life.  We  made  no  progress  on  our  course.  An  unbear- 
able ill-humor  settled  on  the  ship  :  men,  mates,  and  master, 
girding  at  one  another  all  day  long.  A  saucy  word  on  the 
one  hand,  and  a  blow  on  the  other,  made  a  daily  incident. 
There  were  times  when  the  whole  crew  refused  their  duty  ; 
and  we  of  the  afterguard  were  twice  got  under  arms  (being 
the  first  time  that  ever  I  bore  weapons)  in  the  fear  of 
mutiny. 

y  In  the  midst  of  our  evil  season  sprang  up  a  hurricane  of 
''wind  ;  so  that  all  supposed  she  must  go  down.  I  was  shut 
in  the  cabin  from  noon  of  one  day  until  sundown  of  the 
next  ;  the  Master  was  somewhere  lashed  on  deck.  Secun- 
dra  had  eaten  of  some  drug  and  lay  insensible  ;  so  you  may 
say  I  passed  these  hours  in  an  unbroken  solitude.  At  first 
I  was  terrified  beyond  motion  and  almost  beyond  thought, 
my  mind  appearing  to  be  frozen.  Presently  there  stole  in 
on  me  a  ray  of  comfort.  If  the  Nonesuch  foundered,  she 
would  carry  down  with  her  into  the  deeps  of  that  unsounded 
sea  the  creature  whom  we  all  so  feared  and  hated ;  there 
would  be  no  more  Master  of  Ballantrae,  the  fish  would 
sport  among  his  ribs  ;  his  schemes  all  brought  to  nothing, 
his  harmless  enemies  at  peace.  At  first,  I  have  said,  it  was 
but  a  ray  of  comfort  ;  but  it  had  soon  grown  to  be  broad 
sunshine.  The  thought  of  the  man's  death,  of  his  deletion 
from  this  world  which  he  embittered  for  so  many,  took 
possession  of  my  mind.  I  hugged  it,  I  found  it  sweet  in 
my  belly.  I  conceived  the  ship's  last  plunge,  the  sea  burst- 
ing upon  all  sides  into  the  cabin,  the  brief  mortal  conflict 
there,  all  by  myself,  in  that  closed  place  ;  I  numbered  the 
horrors,  I  had  almost  said  with  satisfaction ;  I  felt  I  could 
bear  all  and  more,  if  the  Nonesuch  carried  down  with  her, 
overtook  by  the  same  ruin,  the  enemy  of  my  poor  master's 


MR.   MACKELLAR'S*JOURNEY.  185 

house.  Toward  noon  of  the  second  day,  the  screaming  of 
the  wind  abated  ;  the  ship  lay  not  so  perilously  over  ;  and  it 
began  to  be  clear  to  me  that  we  were  past  the  height  of  the 
tempest.  As  I  hope  for  mercy,  I  was  singly  disappointed. 
In  the  selfishness  of  that  vile,  absorbing  passion  of  hatred, 
I  forgot  the  case  of  our  innocent  shipmates  and  thought  but 
of  myself  and  my  enemy.  For  myself,  I  was  already  old,  I 
had  never  been  young,  I  was  not  formed  for  the  world's 
pleasures,  I  had  few  affections  ;  it  mattered  not  the  toss  of 
a  silver  tester  whether  I  was  drowned  there  and  then  in  the 
Atlantic,  or  dribbled  out  a  few  more  years,  to  die,  perhaps 
no  less  terribly,  in  a  deserted  sick-bed.  Down  I  went  upon 
my  knees, — holding  on  by  the  locker,  or  else  I  had  been 
instantly  dashed  across  the  tossing  cabin, — and,  lifting  up 
my  voice  in  the  midst  of  that  clamor  of  the  abating  hurri- 
cane, impiously  prayed  for  my  own  death.  *'  O  God,"  I 
cried,  "  I  would  be  liker  a  man  if  I  rose  and  struck  this 
creature  down  ;  but  thou  madest  me  a  coward  from  my 
mother's  womb.  O  Lord,  thou  madest  me  so,  thou  know- 
est  my  weakness,  thou  knowest  that  any  face  of  death  will 
set  me  shaking  in  my  shoes.  But  lo  !  here  is  thy  servant 
ready,  his  mortal  weakness  laid  aside.  Let  me  give  my  life 
for  this  creature's  ;  take  the  two  of  them.  Lord  !  take  the 
two,  and  have  mercy  on  the  innocent ! "  In  some  such 
words  as  these,  only  yet  more  irreverent  and  with  more 
sacred  adjurations,  I  continued  to  pour  forth  my  spirit ; 
God  heard  me  not,  I  must  suppose  in  mercy ;  and  I  was 
still  absorbed  in  my  agony  of  supplication,  when  some  one, 
removing  the  tarpaulin  cover,  let  the  light  of  the  sunset 
pour  into  the  cabin.  I  stumbled  to  my  feet  ashamed,  and 
was  seized  With  surprise  to  find  myself  totter  and  ache  like 
one  that  had  been  stretched  upon  the  rack.'  Secundra  Dass, 
who  had  slept  off  the  effects  of  his  drug,  stood  in  a  corner 
not  far  off,  gazing  at  me  with  wild  eyes  ;  and  from  the  open 
skylight  the  captain  thanked  me  for  my  supplications. 


1 86  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"  It's  you  that  saved  the  ship,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  says  he. 
"  There  is  no  craft  of  seamanship  that  could  have  kept  her 
floating  :  well  may  we  say:  *  Except  the  Lord  the  city  keep, 
the  watchmen  watch  in  vain  '  ! " 

I  was  abashed  by  the  captain's  error  ;  abashed,  also,  by 
the  surprise  and  fear  with  which  the  Indian  regarded  me  at 
first,  and  the  obsequious  civilities  with  which  he  soon  began 
to  cumber  me.  I  know  now  that  he  must  have  overheard 
and  comprehended  the  peculiar  nature  of  m.y  prayers.  It 
is  certain,  of  course,  that  he  at  once  disclosed  the  matter  to 
his  patron  ;  and  looking  back  with  greater  knowledge,  I  can 
now- understand,  what  so  much  puzzled  me  at  the  moment, 
those  singular  and  (so  to  speak)  approving  smiles  with 
which  the  Master  honored  me.  Similarly,  I  can  understand 
a  word  that  I  remember  to  have  fallen  from  him  in  conver- 
sation that  same  night ;  when,  holding  up  his  hand  and 
smiling,  "  Ah,  Mackellar,"  said  he,  "  not  every  man  is  so 
great  a  coward  as  he  thinks  he  is — nor  yet  so  good  a  Christ- 
ian." He  did  not  guess  how  true  he  spoke  !  For  the  fact 
is,  the  thoughts  which  had  come  to  me  in  the  violence  of 
the  storm  retained  their  hold  upon  my  spirit  ;  and  the 
words  that  rose  to  my  lips  unbidden  in  the  instancy  of 
prayer  continued  to  sound  in  my  ears  :  With  what  shame- 
ful consequences,  it  is  fitting  I  should  honestly  relate  ;  for 
I  could  not  support  a  part  of  such  disloyalty  as  to  describe 
the  sins  of  others  and  conceal  my  own. 

The  wind  fell,  but  the  sea  hove  ever*the  higher.  All 
^ight  the  Nonesuch  rolled  outrageously ;  the  next  day 
dawned,  and  the  next,  and  brought  no  change.  To  cross 
the  cabin  was  scarce  possible ;  old,  experienced  seamen 
were  cast  down  upon  the  deck,  and  one  cruelly  mauled  in 
the  concussion  ;  every  board  and  block  in  the  old  ship  cried 
out  aloud  ;  and  the  great  bell  by  the  anchor-bitts  continu- 
ally and  dolefully  rang.  One  of  these  days  the  Master  and 
I  sate  alone  together  at  the  break  of  the  poop.     I  should 


MR.   MACKELLAR'S  JOURNEY,  187 

say  the  Nonesuch  carried  a  high,  raised  poop.  About  the 
top  of  it  ran  considerable  bulwarks,  which  made  the  ship 
unweatherly ;  and  these,  as  they  approached  the  front  on 
each  side,  ran  down  in  a  fine,  old-fashioned,  carven  scroll 
to  join  the  bulwarks  of  the  waist.  From  this  disposition, 
which  seenrs  designed  rather  for  ornament  than  use,  it  fol- 
lowed there  was  a  discontinuance  of  protection  :  and  that, 
besides,  at  the  very  margin  of  the  elevated  part  where  (in 
certain  movements  of  the  ship)  it  might  be  the  most  need- 
ful. It  was  here  we  were  sitting :  our  feet  hanging  down, 
the  Master  betwixt  me  and  the  side,  and  1  holding  on  with 
both  hands  to  the  grating  of  the  cabin  skylight ;  for  it 
struck  me  it  was  a  dangerous  position,  the  more  so  as  I  had 
continually  before  my  eyes  a  measure  of  our  evolutions  in 
the  person  of  the  Master,  which  stood  out  in  the  break  of 
the  bulwarks  against  the  sun.  Now  his  head  would  be  in 
the  zenith  and  his  shadow  fall  quite  beyond  \\\t  Nonesuch 
on  the  further  side ;  and  now  he  would  swing  down  till  he 
was  underneath  my  feet,  and  the  line  of  the  sea  leaped  high 
above  him  like  the  ceiling  of  a  room.  I  looked  on  upon 
this  with  a  growing  fascination,  as  birds  are  said  to  look  on 
snakes.  My  mind  besides  was  troubled  with  an  astonishing 
diversity  of  noises;  for  now  that  we  had  all  sails  spread  in  the 
vain  hope  to  bring  her  to  the  sea,  the  ship  sounded  like  a 
factory  with  their  reverberations.  We  spoke  first  of  the 
mutiny  with  which  we  had  been  threatened  ;  this  led  us  on 
to  the  topic  of  assassination  ;  and  that  offered  a  temptation 
to  the  Master  more  strong  than  he  was  able  to  resist.  He 
must  tell  me  a  tale,  and  show  me  at  the  same  time  how 
clever  he  was  and  how  wicked.  It  was  a  thing  he  did  al- 
ways with  affectation  and  display  ;  generally  with  a  good 
effect.  But  this  tale,  told  in  a  high  key  in  the  midst 
*"  of  so  great  a  tumult,  and  by  a  narrator  who  was  one 
moment  looking  down  at  me  from  the  skies  and  the 
next   peering  up   from   under  the  soles  of  my  feet — this 


1 88  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

particular  tale,  I  say,  took  hold  upon  me  in  a  degree  quite 
singular. 

"  My  friend  the  count,"  it  was  thus  that  he  began  his 
story,  "  had  for  an  enemy  a  certain  German  baron,  a 
stranger  in  Rome.  It  matters  not  what  was  the  ground  of 
the  count's  enmity  ;  but  as  he  had  a  firm  design  to  be  re- 
venged, and  that  with  safety  to  himself,  he  kept  it  secret 
even  from  the  baron.  Indeed  that  is  the  first  principle  of 
vengeance  ;  and  hatred  betrayed  is  hatred  impotent.  The 
count  was  a  man  of  a  curious,  searching  mind  ;  he  had 
something  of  the  artist ;  if  anything  fell  for  him  to  do,  it 
must  always  be  done  with  an  exact  perfection,  not  only  as 
to  the  result  but  in  the  very  means  and  instruments,  or  he 
thought  the  thing  miscarried.  It  chanced  he  was  one  day 
riding  in  the  outer  suburbs,  when  he  came  to  a  disused  by- 
road branching  off  into  the  moor  which  lies  about  Rome. 
On  the  one  hand  was  an  ancient  Roman  tomb  ;  on  the  other 
a  deserted  house  in  a  garden  of  evergreen  trees.  This  road 
brought  him  presently  into  a  field  of  ruins,  in  the  midst  of 
which,  in  the  side  of  a  hill,  he  saw  an  open  door  and  (not 
far  off)  a  single  stunted  pine  no  greater  than  a  currant-bush. 
The  place  was  desert  and  very  secret :  a  voice  spoke  in  the 
count's  bosom  that  there  was  something  here  to  his  advan- 
tage. He  tied  his  horse  to  the  pine-tree,  took  his  flint  and 
steel  in  his  hand  to  make  a  light,  and  entered  into  the  hill. 
The  doorway  opened  on  a  passage  of  old  Roman  masonry, 
which  shortly  after  branched  in  two.  The  count  took  the 
turning  to  the  right,  and  followed  it,  groping  forward  in  the 
dark,  till  he  was  brought  up  by  a  kind  of  fence,  about  elbow- 
high,  which  extended  quite  across  the  passage.  Sounding 
forward  with  his  foot,  he  found  an  edge  of  polished  stone, 
and  then  vacancy.  All  his  curiosity  was  now  awakened, 
and,  getting  some  rotten  sticks  that  lay  about  the  floor,  he 
made  a  fire.  In  front  of  him  was  a  profound  well :  doubt- 
less some  neighboring  peasant  had  once  used  it  for  his 


MR.   MACKELLAR'S  JOURNEY.  1S9 

water,  and  it  was  he  that  had  set  up  the  fence.  A  long 
while  the  count  stood  leaning  on  the  rail  and  looking  down 
into  the  pit.  It  was  of  Roman  foundation,  and,  like  all  that 
nation  set  their  hands  to,  built  as  for  eternity :  the  sides 
were  still  straight  and  the  joints  smooth  ;  to  a  man  who 
should  fall  in,  no  escape  was  possible.  *  Now,'  the  count 
was  thinking,  *  a  strong  impulsion  brought  me  to  this  place  : 
what  for  ?  what  have  I  gained  ?  why  should  I  be  sent  to 
gaze  into  this  well  ? ' — when  the  rail  of  the  fence  gave  sud- 
denly under  his  weight,  and  he  came  within  an  ace  of  fall- 
ing headlong  in.  Leaping  back  to  save  himself,  he  trod 
out  the  last  flicker  of  his  fire,  which  gave  him  thenceforward 
no  more  light,  only  an  incommoding  smoke.  'Was  I  sent 
here  to  my  death  ? '  says  he,  and  shook  from  head  to  foot. 
And  then  a  thought  flashed  in  his  mind.  He  crept  forth  on 
hands  and  knees  to  the  brink  of  the  pit  and  felt  above  him  in 
the  air.  The  rail  had  been  fast  to  a  pair  of  uprights  ; 
it  had  only  broken  from  the  one,  and  still  depended  from 
the  other.  The  count  set  it  back  again  as  he  had  found  it, 
so  that  the  place  meant  death  to  the  first  comer  ;  and 
groped  out  of  the  catacomb  like  a  sick  man.  The  next  day, 
riding  in  the  Corso  with  the  baron,  he  purposely  betrayed  a 
strong  preoccupation.  The  other  (as  he  had  designed)  in- 
quired into  the  cause  ;  and  he  (after  some  fencing)  admitted 
that  his  spirits  had  been  dashed  by  an  unusual  dream. 
This  was  calculated  to  draw  on  the  baron, — a  superstitious 
man  who  affected  the  scorn  of  superstition.  Some  rallying 
followed  ;  and  then  the  count  (as  if  suddenly  carried  away) 
called  on  his  friend  to  beware,  for  it  was  of  him  that  he  had 
dreamed.  You  know  enough  of  human  nature,  my  excel- 
lent Mackellar,  to  be  certain  of  one  thing  :  I  mean,  that 
the  baron  did  not  rest  till  he  had  heard  the  dream.  The 
count  (sure  that  he  would  never  desist)  kept  him  in  play  till 
his  curiosity  was  highly  inflamed,  and  then  suffered  himself 
with  seeming  reluctance  to  be  overborne.     *I  warn  you/ 


ipo  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

says  he,  *  evil  will  come  of  it ;  something  tells  me  so.  But 
since  there  is  to  be  no  peace  either  for  you  or  me  except  on 
this  condition,  the  blame  be  on  your  own  head  !  This  was 
the  dream.  I  beheld  you  riding,  I  know  not  where,  yet  I 
think  it  must  have  been  near  Rome,  for  on  your  one  hand 
was  an  ancient  tomb  and  on  the  other  a  garden  of  ever- 
green trees.  MethoUght  I  cried  and  cried  upon  you  to 
come  back  in  a  very  agony  of  terror  ;  whether  you  heard 
me,  I  know  not,  but  you  went  doggedly  on.  The  road 
brought  you  to  a  desert  place  among  ruins :  where  was  a 
door  in  a  hillside,  and  hard  by  the  door  a  misbegotten  pine. 
Here  you  dismounted  (I  still  crying  on  you  to  beware),  tied 
your  horse  to  the  pine-tree,  and  entered  resolutely  in  by  the 
door.  Within  it  was  dark  ;  but  in  my  dream  I  could  still 
see  you,  and  still  besought  you  to  hold  back.  You  felt 
your  way  along  the  right-hand  wall,  took  a  branching  pas- 
sage to  the  right,  and  came  to  a  little  chamber,  where  was 
a  well  with  a  railing.  At  this  (I  knov/  not  why)  my  alarm 
for  you  increased  a  thousandfold,  so  that  I  seemed  to 
scream  myself  hoarse  with  warnings,  crying  it  was  still  time 
and  bidding  you  begone  at  once  from  that  vestibule.  Such 
was  the  word  I  used  in  my  dream,  and  it  seemed  then  to 
have  a  clear  significancy  ;  but  to-day  and  awake,  I  profess 
I  know  not  what  it  means.  To  all  my  outcry  you  rendered 
not  the  least  attention,  leaning  the  while  upon  the  rail  and 
looking  down  intently  in  the  water.  And  then  there  was 
made  to  you  a  communication,  I  do  not  think  I  even 
gathered  what  it  was,  but  the  fear  of  it  plucked  me  clean 
out  of  my  slumber,  and  I  awoke  shaking  and  sobbing. 
And  now,'  continues  the  count,  *  I  thank  you  from  my  heart 
for  your  insistancy.  This  dream  lay  on  me  like  a  load  ; 
and  now  I  have  told  it  in  plain  words  and  in  the  broad  day- 
light, it  seems  no  great  matter.' — '  I  do  not  know,'  says  the 
baron.  *  It  is  in  some  points  strange.  A  communication, 
did  you  say  ?    Oh,  it  is  an  odd  dream.     It  will  make  a  story 


MR.   MACKELLAR'S  JOURNEY.  19^ 

to  amuse  our  friends.*—*  I  am  not  so  sure,'  says  the  count. 
*  I  am  sensible  of  some  reluctancy.  Let  us  rather  forget 
it.' — *  By  all  means,*  says  the  baron.  And  (in  fact)  the 
dream  was  not  again  referred  to.  Some  days  after,  the 
count  proposed  a  ride  in  the  fields,  which  the  baron  (since 
they  were  daily  growing  faster  friends)  very  readily  accepted. 
On  the  way  back  to  Rome,  the  count  led  them  insensibly 
by  a  particular  route.  Presently  he  reined  in  his  horse, 
clapped  his  hand  before  his  eyes,  and  cried  out  aloud. 
Then  he  showed  his  face  again  (which  was  now  quite 
white,  for  he  was  a  consummate  actor),  and  stared  upon 
the  baron. 

"  '  What  ails  you } '  cries  the  baron.  '  What  is  wrong  with 
you  ? ' — *  Nothing,'  cries  the  count.  *  It  is  nothing.  A 
seizure,  I  know  not  what.  Let  us  hurry  back  to  Rome.* 
But  in  the  mean  while  the  baron  had  looked  about  him  ; 
and  there,  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  way  as  they  went 
back  to  Rome,  he  saw  a  dusty  by-road  with  a  tomb  upon 
the  one  hand  and  a  garden  of  evergreen  trees  upon  the 
other. — *  Yes,'  says  he,  with  a  changed  voice.  *  Let  us  by 
all  means  hurry  back  to  Rome.  I  fear  you  are  not  well  in 
health.' — *  Oh,  for  God's  sake  ! '  cries  the  count,  shudder- 
ing. *  Back  to  Rome  and  let  me  get  to  bed.'  They  made 
their  return  with  scarce  a  word  ;  and  the  count,  who  should 
by  rights  have  gone  into  society,  took  to  his  bed  and  gave 
out  he  had  a  touch  of  country  fever.  The  next  day  the 
baron's  horse  was  found  tied  to  the  pine,  but  himself  was 
never  heard  of  from  that  hour. — And  now,  was  that  a  mur- 
der?" says  the  Master,  breaking  sharply  off. 

"  Are  you  sure  he  was  a  count  ? "  I  asked. 

"  I  am  not  certain  of  the  title,"  said  he,  **  but  he  was  a 
gentleman  of  family  :  and  the  Lord  deliver  you,  Mackellar, 
from  an  enemy  so  subtile  !  " 

These  last  words  he  spoke  down  at  me  smiling,  from  high 
above  ;  the  next,  he  was"  under  my  feet.    I  continued  to 


192  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

follow  his  evolutions  with  a  childish  fixity  ;  they  made  mc 
giddy  and  vacant,  and  I  spoke  as  in  a  dream. 

"  He  hated  the  baron  with  a  great  hatred  ? "  I  asked. 

"  His  belly  moved  when  the  man  came  near  him,"  said 
the  Master. 

"  I  have  felt  that  same,"  said  I. 

"  Verily  !  "  cries  the  Master.  "  Here  is  news  indeed  !  I 
wonder — do  I  flatter  myself  ?  or  am  I  the  cause  of  these 
ventral  perturbations?" 

He  was  quite  capable  of  choosing  out  a  graceful  posture, 
even  with  no  one  to  behold  him  but  myself,  and  all  the 
more  if  there  were  any  element  of  peril.  He  sat  now  with 
one  knee  flung  across  the  other,  his  arms  on  his  bosom, 
fitting  the  swing  of  the  ship  with  an  exquisite  balance,  such 
as  a  featherweight  might  overthrow.  A21  at  once  I  had  the 
vision  of  my  lord  at  the  table  with  his  head  upon  his  hands  ; 
only  now,  when  he  showed  me  his  countenance,  it  was  heavy 
with  reproach.  The  words  of  my  own  prayer — I  were  liker 
a  ?nan  if  1  struck  this  creature  down — shot  at  the  same  time 
into  my  memory.  I  called  my  energies  together,  and  (the 
ship  then  heeling  downward  toward  my  enemy)  thrust  at 
him  swiftly  with  my  foot.  It  was  written  I  should  have  the 
guilt  qi  this  attempt  without  the  profit.  Whether  from  my 
own  uncertainty  or  his  incredible  quickness,  he  escaped  the 
thrust,  leaping  to  his  feet  and  catching  hold  at  the  same 
moment  of  a  stay. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  a  time  passed  by  :  I  lying  where 
I  was  upon  the  deck,  overcome  with  terror  and  remorse  and 
shame  :  he  standing  with  the  stay  in  his  hand,  backed 
against  the  bulwarks,  and  regarding  me  with  an  expression 
singularly  mingled.     At  last  he  spoke. 

"  Mackellar,"  said  he,  "  I  make  no  reproaches,  but  I  offer 
you^a  bargain.     On  your  side,  I   do  not  suppose  you  desire 
to  have  this  exploit  made  public  ;  on  mine,  I  own  to  you  j 
freely,  I  do  not  care  to  draw  my  breath  in  a  perpetual  terrprv 


MR.   MACKELLAR'S  JOURNEY,    /  1 93 

of  assassination  by  the  man  I  sit  at  meat  with.  Promise  me — 
but  no,"  says  he,  breaking  off,  "  you  are  not  yet  in  the  quiet 
possession  of  your  mind  ;  you  might  think  I  had  extorted 
the  promise  from  your  weakness  ;  and  I  would  leave  no 
door  open  for  casuistry  to  come  in — that  dishonesty  of  the 
conscientious.     Take  time  to  meditate." 

With  that  he  made  off  up  the  sliding  deck  like  a  squirrel 
and  plunged  into  the  cabin.  About  half  an  hour  later  he 
returned  :  I  still  lying  as  he  had  left  me. 

"  Now,"  says  he,  "  will  you  give  me  your  troth  as  a  Chris- 
tian and  a  faithful  servant  of  my  brother's,  that  I  shall  have 
no  more  to  fear  from  your  attempts  ? " 

"I  give  it  to  you,"  said  I. 

"I  shall  require  your  hand  upon  it,"  says  he. 

"  You  have  the  right  to  make  conditions,"  I  replied,  and 
we  shook  hands. 

He  sat  down  at  once  in  the  same  place  and  the  old  peril- 
ous attitude. 

"  Hold  on  !  "  cried  I,  covering  my  eyes.  "  I  cannot  bear 
to  see  you  in  that  posture.  The  least  irregularity  of  the  sea 
might  plunge  you  overboard." 

•'You  are  highly  inconsistent,"  he  replied,  smiling,  but 
doing  as  I  asked.  "  For  all  that,  Mackellar,  I  would  have 
you  to  know  you  have  risen  forty  feet  in  my  esteem.  You 
think  I  cannot  set  a  price  upon  fidelity  ?  But  why  do  you 
suppose  I  carry  that  Secundra  Dass  about  the  world  with 
me?  Because  he  would  die  or  do  murder  for  me  to-mor- 
row ;  and  I  love  him  for  it.  Well,  you  may  think  it  odd, 
but  I  like  you  the  better  for  this  afternoon's  performance. 
I  thought  you  were  magnetized  with  the  Ten  Command- 
ments ;  but  no — God  damn  my  soul  !  " — he  cries,  "  the  old 
wife  has  blood  in  his  body  after  all  !— Which  does  not 
change  the  fact,"  he  continued,  smiling  again,  "  that  you 
have  done  well  to  give  your  promise  ;  for  I  doubt  if  you 
would  ever  shine  in  your  new  trade." 


t94  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLAMTRAE. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  I,  "  I  should  ask  your  pardon  and 
God's  for  my  attempt.  At  any  rate  I  have  passed  my  word, 
which  I  will  keep  faithfully.  But  when  I  think  of  those  you 
persecute — "  I  paused. 

"  Life  is  a  singular  thing,"  said  he,  "  and  mankind  a  very 
singular  people.  You  suppose  yourself  to  love  my  brother. 
I  assure  you  it  is  merely  custom.  Interrogate  your  memory  ; 
and  when  first  you  came  to  Durrisdeer,  you  will  find  you 
considered  him  a  dull,  ordinary  youth.  He  is  dull  and  or- 
dinary now,  though  not  so  young.  Had  you  instead  fallen 
in  with  me,  you  would  to-day  be  as  strong  upon  my 
side." 

"  I  would  never  say  you  were  ordinary,  Mr.  Bally,"  I  re- 
turned ;  *'but  here  you  prove  yourself  dull.  You  have  just 
shown  your  reliance  on  my  word.  In  other  terms,  that  is 
my  conscience — the  same  which  starts  instinctively  back 
from  you,  like  the  eye  from  a  strong  light." 

"  Ah  !  "  says  he,  "  but  I  mean  otherwise.  I  mean,  had  I 
met  you  in  my  youth.  You  are  to  consider  I  was  not  always 
as  I  am  to-day  ;  nor  (had  I  met  in  with  a  friend  of  your  de- 
scription) should  I  have  ever  been  so." 

"  Hut,  Mr.  Bally,"  says  I,  "  you  would  have  made  a  mock 
of  me — you  would  never  have  spent  ten  civil  words  on  such 
a  squaretoes." 

But  he  was  now  fairly  started  on  his  new  course  of  justi- 
fication, with  which  he  wearied  me  throughout  the  remain- 
der of  the  passage.  No  doubt  in  the  past  he  had  taken 
i)leasure  to  paint  himself  unnecessarily  black,  and  made  a 
vaunt  of  his  wickedness,  bearing  it  for  a  coat  of  arms.  Nor 
was  he  so  illogical  as  to  abate  one  item  of  his  old  confes- 
sions. ''  But  now  that  I  know  you  are  a  human  being," 
he  would  say,  "  I  can  take  the  trouble  to  explain  myself. 
For  I  assure  you  I  am  human  too,  and  have  my  virtues  like 
my  neighbors."  I  say  he  wearied  me,  for  I  had  only  the 
one  word  to  say  in  answer  ;  twenty  times  I  must  have  said 


MR.  MACiCELLAR'S  JOURNEY,  195 

it :  "  Give  up  your  present  purpose  and  return  with  me  to 
Durrisdeer  ;  then  I  will  believe  you." 

Thereupon  he  would  shake  his  head  at  me.  "  Ah,  Mac- 
kellar,  you  might  live  a  thousand  years  and  never  under- 
stand my  nature,"  he  would  say.  "  This  battle  is  now  com- 
mitted, the  hour  of  reflection  quite  past,  the  hour  for  mercy 
not  yet  come.  It  began  between  us  when  we  span  a  coin  in  / 
the  hall  of  Durrisdeer  now  twenty  years  ago  ;  we  have  had 
our  ups  and  downs,  but  never  either  of  us  dreamed  of  giv- 
ing in  ;  and  as  for  me,  when  my  glove  is  cast,  life  and 
honor  go  with  it." 

"  A  fig  for  your  honor  !  "  I  would  say.  *'  And  by  your 
leave,  these  warlike  similitudes  are  something  too  high- 
sounding  for  the  matter  in  hand.  You  want  some  dirty 
money,  there  is  the  bottom  of  your  contention  ;  and  as  for 
your  means,  what  are  they? — to  stir  up  sorrow  in  a  family 
that  never  harmed  you,  to  debauch  (if  you  can)  your  own 
born  nephew,  and  to  wring  the  heart  of  your  born  brother  ! 
A  footpad  that  kills  an  old  granny  in  a  woolen  mutch  with 
a  dirty  bludgeon,  and  that  for  a  shilling-piece  and  a  paper 
of  snuff — there  is  all  the  warrior  that  you  are." 

When  I  would  attack  him  thus  (or  somewhat  thus)  he 
would  smile  and  sigh  like  a  man  misunderstood.  Once,  I 
remember,  he  defended  himself  more  at  large,  and  had 
some  curious  sophistries,  worth  repeating  for  a  light  upon 
his  character. 

"You  are  very  like  a  civilian  to  think  war  consists  in 
drums  and  banners,"  said  he.  "  War  (as  the  ancients  said 
very  wisely)  is  ultima  ratio.  When  we  take  our  advantage 
unrelentingly,  then  we  make  war.  Ah,  Mackellar,  you  are 
a  devil  of  a  soldier  in  the  steward's  room  at  Durrisdeer,  or 
the  tenants  do  you  sad  injustice  !  " 

*'  I  think  little  of  what  war  is  or  is  not,"  I  replied.  "  But 
you  weary  me  with  claiming  my  respect.  Your  brother  is  a 
good  man,  and  you  are  a  bad  one — neither  more  nor  less." 


196  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLAMTRAE 

"  Had  I  been  Alexander — "  he  began. 

"  It  is  so  we  all  dupe  ourselves,"  I  cried.  "  Had  I  been 
St.  Paul,  it  would  have  been  ali  one  ;  I  would  have  made 
the  same  hash  of  that  career  that  you  now  see  me  making 
of  my  own." 

"  I  tell  you,"  he  cried,  bearing  down  my  interruption, 
"had  I  been  the  least  petty  chieftain  in  the  highlands,  had 
I  been  the  least  king  of  naked  negroes  in  the  African  desert, 
my  people  would  have  adored  me.  A  bad  man,  am  I  ? 
Ah,  but  I  was  born  for  a  good  tyrant !  Ask  Secundra  Dass  ; 
he  will  tell  you  I  treat  him  like  a  son.  Cast  in  your  lot 
with  me  to-morrow,  become  my  slave,  my  chattel,  a  thing  I 
can  command  as  I  command  the  powers  of  my  own  limbs 
and  spirit — you  will  see  no  more  that  dark  side  that  I  turn 
upon  the  world  in  anger.  I  must  have  all  or  none.  But 
where  all  is  given,  I  give  it  back  with  usury.  I  have  a  kingly 
nature  :  there  is  my  loss  !  " 

"  It  has  been  hitherto  rather  the  loss  of  others,"  I  remarked  ; 
"which  seems  a  little  on  the  hither  side  of  royalty." 

*'  Tilly-vally  !  "  cried  he.  "  Even  now,  I  tell  you  I  would 
spare  that  family  in  which  you  take  so  great  an  interest : 
yes,  even  now, — to-morrow  I  would  leave  them  to  their  petty 
welfare,  and  disappear  in  that  forest  of  cut-throats  and 
thimbleriggers  that  we  call  the  world.  I  would  do  it  to- 
morrow !  "  says  he.     "  Only— only — " 

"  Only  what  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Only  they  must  beg  it  on  their  bended  knees.  I  think 
in  public  too,"  he  added,  smiling.  "  Indeed,  Mackellar,  I 
doubt  if  there  be  a  hall  big  enough  to  serve  my  purpose  for 
that  act  of  reparation." 

"  Vanity,  vanity  ! "  I  moralized.  "  To  think  that  this 
great  force  for  evil  should  be  swayed  by  the  same  senti- 
ment that  sets  a  lassie  mincing  to  her  glass  !  " 

"  O,  there  are  double  words  for  everything  ;  the  word  that 
swells,  the  word  that  belittles :  you  cannot  fight  me  with  a 


MR.   MACKELLAR'S  JOURNEY.  197 

word  !  "  said  he.  "  You  said  the  other  day  that  I  relied  on 
your  conscience  :  were  I  in  your  humor  of  detraction,  I 
might' say  I  built  upon  your  vanity.  It  is  your  pretension  , 
to  ht  un  hotfwie  de  parole  ;  'tis  mine  not  to  accept  defeat,  v 
Call  it  vanity,  call  it  virtue,  call  it  greatness  of  soul — what  , 
signifies  the  expression  ?  But  recognize  in  each  of  us  av 
common  strain  ;  that  we  both  live  for  an  idea." 

It  will  be  gathered  from  so  much  familiar  talk,  and  so 
much  patience  on  both  sides,  that  we  now  lived  together 
upon  excellent  terms.  Such  was  again  the  fact,  and  this 
time  more  seriously  than  before.  Apart  from  disputations 
such  as  that  which  I  have  tried  to  reproduce,  not  only  con- 
sideration reigned,  but  I  am  tempted  to  say  even  kindness. 
When  I  fell  sick  (as  I  did  shortly  after  our  great  storm)  he 
sat  by  my  berth  to  entertain  me  with  his  conversation,  and 
treated  me  with  excellent  remedies,  which  I  accepted  with 
security.  Himself  commented  on  the  circumstance.  "You 
see,"  says  he,  "  you  begin  to  know  me  better.  A  very  little 
while  ago,  upon  this  lonely  ship,  where  no  one  but  myself 
has  any  smattering  of  science,  you  would  have  made  sure  I 
had  designs  upon  your  life.  And  observe,  it  is  since  I  found 
you  had  designs  upon  my  own,  that  I  have  shown  you  most 
respect.  You  will  tell  me  if  this  speaks  of  a  small  mind." 
I  found  little  to  reply.  In  so  far  as  regarded  myself,  I 
believed  him  to  mean  well  ;  I  am  perhaps  the  more  a  dupe 
of  his  dissimulation,  but  I  believed  (and  I  still  believe)  that 
he  regarded  me  with  genuine  kindness.  Singular  and  sad 
fact  !  so  soon  as  this  change  began,  my  animosity  abated, 
and  these  haunting  visions  of  my  master  passed  utterly 
away.  So  that,  perhaps,  there  was  truth  in  the  man's  last 
vaunting  word  to  me,  uttered  on  the  second  day  of  July, 
when  our  long  voyage  was  at  last  brought  almost  to  an  end, 
and  we  lay  becalmed  at  the  sea  end  of  the  vast  harbor  of 
New  York  in  a  gasping  heat  which  was  presently  exchanged 
for  a  surprising  waterfall  of  rain.     I  stood  on  the  poop  regard- 


198  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

ing  the  green  shores  near  at  hand,  and  now  and  then  the 
light  smoke  of  the  little  town,  our  destination.  And  as  I 
was  even  then  devising  how  to  steal  a  march  on  my  familiar 
enemy,  I  was  conscious  of  a  shade  of  embarrassment  when 
he  approached  me  with  his  hand  extended. 

"  I  am  now  to  bid  you  farewell,"  said  he,  "  and  that  for- 
ever. For  now  you  go  among  my  enemies,  where  ail  your 
former  prejudices  will  revive.  I  never  yet  failed  to  charm 
a  person  when  I  wanted  ;  even  you,  my  good  friend — to  call 
you  so  for  once — even  you  have  now  a  very  different  por- 
trait of  me  in  your  memory,  and  one  that  you  will  never 
quite  forget.  The  voyage  has  not  lasted  long  enough,  or  I 
should  have  wrote  the  impression  deeper.  But  now  all  is 
at  an  end,  and  we  are  again  at  war.  Judge  by  this  little 
interlude  how  dangerous  I  am  ;  and  tell  those  fools" — point- 
ing with  his  finger  to  the  town — "  to  think  twice  and  thrice 
before  they  set  me  at  defiance." 


PASSAGES  AT  NEW  YORK. 

I  HAVE  mentioned  I  was  resolved  to  steal  a  march  upon 
the  Master  ;  and  this,  with  the  complicity  of  Captain  Mc- 
Murtrie,  was  mighty  easily  effected  :  a  boat  being  partly 
loaded  on  the  one  side  of  our  ship  and  the  Master  placed 
on  board  of  it,  the  while  a  skiff  put  off  from  the  other  carry- 
ing me  alone.  I  had  no  more  trouble  in  finding  a  direc- 
tion to  my  lord's  house,  whither  I  went  at  top  speed,  and 
which  I  found  to  be  on  the  outskirts  of  the  place,  a  very 
suitable  mansion,  in  a  fine  garden,  with  an  extraordinary 
large  barn,  byre,  and  stable  all  in  one.  It  was  here  my  lord 
was  walking  when  I  arrived  ;  indeed  it  had  become  his 
chief  place  of  frequentation,  and  his  mind  was  now  filled 
with  farming.  I  burst  in  upon  him  breathless,  and  gave 
him  my  news  :  which  was  indeed  no  news  at  all,  several 
ships  having  outsailed  the  Nonesuch  in  the  interval. 

"  We  have  been  expecting  you  long,"  said  my  lord  ;  "  and 
indeed,  of  late  days,  ceased  to  expect  you  any  more.  I  am 
glad  to  take  your  hand  again,  Mackellar.  I  thought  you 
had  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea." 

"  Ah,  my  lord,  would  God  I  had  !  "  cried  I.  "  Things 
would  have  been  better  for  yourself." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  says  he  grimly.  "  I  could  not  ask 
better.  There  is  a  long  score  to  pay,  and  now — at  last — 
I  can  begin  to  pay  it." 

I  cried  out  against  his  security. 

"  Oh,"  says  he,  "this  is  not  Durrisdeer,  and  I  have  taken 
my  precautions.  His  reputation  awaits  him,  I  have  pre- 
pared a  welcome  for  my  brother.  Indeed  fortune  has 
served  me  ;  for  I  found  here  a  merchant  of  Albany  who 

199 


200  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

knew  him  after  the  '45  and  had  mighty  convenient  sus- 
picions of  a  murder :  some  one  of  the  name  of  Chew  it 
was,  another  Albanian.  No  one  here  will  be  surprised  if  I 
deny  him  my  door  ;  he  will  not  be  suffered  to  address  my 
children,  nor  even  to  salute  my  wife  :  as  for  myself,  I  make 
so  much  exception  for  a  brother  that  he  may  speak  to  me. 
I  should  lose  my  pleasure  else,"  says  my  lord,  rubbing  his 
palms. 

Presently  he  bethought  himself,  and  set  men  off  running, 
with  billets,  to  summon  the  magnates  of  the  province.  I 
cannot  recall  what  pretext  he  employed ;  at  least  it  was 
successful  ;  and  when  our  ancient  enemy  appeared  upon 
the  scene,  he  found  my  lord  pacing  in  front  of  his  house 
under  some  trees  of  shade,  with  the  governor  upon  one 
hand  and  various  notables  upon  the  other.  My  lady,  who 
was  seated  in  the  verandah,  rose  with  a  very  pinched  ex- 
pression and  carried  her  children  into  the  house. 

The  Master,  well  dressed  and  with  an  elegant  walking- 
sword,  bowed  to  the  company  in  a  handsome  manner  and 
nodded  to  my  lord  with  familiarity.  My  lord  did  not  accept 
the  salutation,  but  looked  upon  his  brother  with  bended 
brows. 

''Well,  sir,"  says  he,  at  last,  "what  ill  wind  brings  you 
hither  of  all  places,  where  (to  our  common  disgrace)  your 
reputation  has  preceded  you  ? " 

"  Your  lordship  is  pleased  to  be  civil,"  cries  the  Master, 
with  a  fine  start. 

"  I  am  pleased  to  be  very  plain,"  returned  my  lord  ;  "  be- 
cause it  is  needful  you  should  clearly  understand  your 
(situation.  At  home,  where  you  were  so  little  known,  it  was 
still  possible  to  keep  appearances  :  that  would  be  quite 
vain  in  this  province  ;  and  I  have  to  tell  you  that  I  am 
j  quite  resolved  to  wash  my  hands  of  you.  You  have  already 
ruined  me  almost  to  the  door,  as  you  ruined  my  father  be- 
fore me, — whose  heart  you  also  broke.     Your  crimes  escape 


PA SSA GES  AT  NEW  YORK.  201 

the  law  ;  but  my  friend  the  governor  has  promised  protec-     / 
tion   to   my  family.     Have  a   care,  sir  ! "   cries   my  lord,  J 
shaking  his  cane  at  him  :  **  if  you  are  observed  to  utter  two 
words  to  any  of  my  innocent  household,  the  law  shall  be 
stretched  to  make  you  smart  for  it." 

"Ah  !  "  says  the  Master,  very  slowly.     "And  so  this  is 
the  advantage  of  a  foreign  land  !     These  gentlemen  are 
unacquainted   with  our   story,    I   perceive.     They  do  not 
know  that  I  am  the  Lord  Durrisdeer ;  they  do  not  know  »^ 
you  are  my  younger  brother,  sitting  in  my  place  under  a  u- 
sworn  family  compact ;  they  do  not  know  (or  they  would 
not  be  seen  with  you  in  familiar  correspondence)  that  every 
acre  is  mine  before  God  Almighty — and  every  doit  of  the  ^ 
money  you  withhold  from  me,  you  do  it  as  a  thief,  a  per- 
jurer, and  a  disloyal  brother  !  " 

"General  Clinton,"  I  cried,  "do  not  listen  to  his  lies, 
lam  the  steward  of  the  estate,  and  there  is  not  one  word  of  ^ 
truth  in  it.     The  man  is  a  forfeited  rebel  turned  into  a  hired 
spy  :  there  is  his  story  in  two  words." 

It  was  thus  that  (in  the  heat  of  the  moment)  I  let  slip 
his  infamy. 

"  Fellow,"  said  the  governor,  turning  his  face  sternly  on 
the  Master,  "  I  know  more  of  you  than  you  think  for.  We 
have  some  broken  ends  of  your  adventures  in  the  provinces, 
which  you  will  do  very  well  not  to  drive  me  to  investigate. 
There  is  the  disappearance  of  Mr.  Jacob  Chew  with  all  his  J 
merchandise  ;  there  is  the  matter  of  where  you  came  ashore  / 
from  with  so  much  money  and  jewels,  when  you  were  picked 
up  by  a  Bermudan  out  of  Albany.  Believe  me,  if  I  let 
these  matters  lie,  it  is  in  commiseration  for  your  family  and 
out  of  respect  for  my  valued  friend,  Lord  Durrisdeer." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  applause  from  the  provincials. 

"I  should  have  remembered  how  a  title  would  shine  out 
in  such  a  hole  as  this,"  says  the  Master,  white  as  a  sheet  : 
**  no  matter  how  unjustly  come  by.     It  remains  for  me  then 


202  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

to  die  at  my  lord's  door,  where  my  dead  body  will  form  a 
very  cheerful  ornament." 

"Away  with  your  affectations !"  cries  ray  lord.  "You 
know  very  well  I  have  no  such  meaning ;  only  to  protect 
myself  from  calumny  and  my  home  from  your  intrusion.  I 
offer  you  a  choice.  Either  I  shall  pay  your  passage  home 
on  the  first  ship,  when  you  may  perhaps  be  able  to  resume 
your  occupations  under  government,  although  God  knows 
I  would  rather  see  you  on  the  highway  !  Or,  if  that  likes 
you  not,  stay  here  and  welcome  !  I  have  inquired  the  least 
sum  on  which  body  and  soul  can  be  decently  kept  together 
in  New  York  ;  so  much  you  shall  have,  paid  weekly  ;  and 
if  you  cannot  labor  with  your  hands  to  better  it,  high  time 
.you  should  betake  yourself  to  learn !  The  condition  is, 
that  you  speak  with  no  member  of  my  family  except  my- 
self," he  added. 

I»do  not  think  I  have  ever  seen  any  man  so  pale  as  was 
the  Master ;  but  he  was  erect  and  his  mouth  firm. 

"  I  have  been  met  here  with  some  very  unmerited  in- 
sults," said  he,  "  from  which  I  have  certainly  no  idea  to  take 
refuge  by  flight.  Give  me  your  pittance  ;  I  take  it  without 
shame,  for  it  is  mine  already — like  the  shirt  upon  your  back  ; 
and  I  choose  to  stay  until  these  gentlemen  shall  understand 
me  better.  Already  they  must  spy  the  cloven  hoof  ;  since 
with  all  your  pretended  eagerness  for  the  family  honor,  you 
take  a  pleasure  to  degrade  it  in  my  person." 

"  This  is  all  very  fine,"  says  my  lord ;  "  but  to  us  who 
know  you  of  old,  you  must  be  sure  it  signifies  nothing. 
You  take  that  alternative  out  of  which  you  think  that  you 
can  make  the  most.  Take  it,  if  you  can,  in  silence  :  it  will 
serve  you  better  in  the  long  run,  you  may  believe  me,  than 
this  ostentation  of  ingratitude'." 

"  O,  gratitude,  my  lord  ! "  cries  the  Master,  with  a  mount- 
ing intonation  and  his  forefinger  very  conspicuously  lifted 
up.    "  Be  at  rest ;   it  will  not  fail  you.    It  now  remains  that 


PASSAGES  AT  NEW  YORK.  203 

I  should  salute  these  gentlemen  whom  we  have  wearied 
with  our  family  affairs." 

And  he  bowed  to  each  in  succession,  settled  his  walking- 
sword,  and  took  himself  off,  leaving  every  one  amazed  at 
his  behavior,  and  me  not  less  so  at  my  lord's. 

We  were  now  to  enter  on  a  changed  phase  of  this  family 
division.  The  Master  was  by  no  manner  of  means  so  help- 
less as  my  lord  supposed,  having  at  his  hand,  and  entirely 
devoted  to  his  service,  an  excellent  artist  in  all  sorts  of  \J 
goldsmith  work.  With  my  lord's  allowance,  which  was  not 
so  scanty  as  he  had  described  it,  the  pair  could  support 
life  ;  and  all  the  earnings  of  Secundra  Dass  might  be  laid  "^ 
upon  one  side  for  any  future  purpose.  That  this  was  done, 
I  have  no  doubt.  It  was  in  all  likelihood  the  Master's 
design  to  gather  a  sufficiency,  and  then  proceed  in  quest  of 
that  treasure  which  he  had  buried  long  before  among  the 
mountains  ;  to  which,  if  he  had  confined  himself,  he  would 
have  been  more  happily  inspired.  But,  unfortunately  for 
himself  and  all  of  us,  he  took  counsel  of  his  anger.  The 
public  disgrace  of  his  arrival  (which  I  sometimes  wonder 
he  could  manage  to  survive)  rankled  in  his  bones ;  he  was 
in  that  humor  when  a  man  (in  the  words  of  the  old  adage) 
will  cut  off  his  nose  to  spite  his  face ;  and  he  must  make 
himself  a  public  spectacle,  in  the  hopes  that  some  of  the 
disgrace  might  spatter  on  my  lord. 

He  chose,  in  a  poor  quarter  of  the  town,  a  lonely,  small 
house  of  boards,  overhung  with  some  acacias.  It  was  fur- 
nished in  front  with  a  sort  of  hutch  opening,  like  that  of  a 
dog's  kennel,  but  about  as  high  as  a  table  from  the  ground, 
in  which  the  poor  man  that  built  it  had  formerly  displayed 
some  wares ;  and  it  was  this  which  took  the  Master's  fancy 
and  possibly  suggested  his  proceedings.  It  appears,  on 
board  the  pirate  ship,  he  had  acquired  some  quickness  with 
the  needle  :  enough  at  least  to  play  the  part  of  tailor  in  the 


204  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

public  eye ;  which  was  all  that  was  required  by  the  nature 
of  his  vengeance.  A  placard  was  hung  above  the  hutch, 
bearing  these  words  in  something  of  the  following  dis- 
position : 

James  Durie 

FORMERLY  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE 

Clothes  Neatly  Clouted. 


SECUNDRA  DASS 

Decayed  Gentleman  of  India 

fine  goldsmith  work. 

Underneath  this,  when  he  had  a  job,  my  gentleman  sat 
withinside  tailor-wise  and  busily  stitching.  I  say,  when  he 
had  a  job  ;  but  such  customers  as  came  were  rather  for 
Secundra,  and  the  Master's  sewing  would  be  more  in  the 
manner  of  Penelope's.  He  could  never  have  designed  to 
gain  even  butter  to  his  bread  by  such  a  means  of  livelihood  : 
enough  for  him,  that  there  was  the  name  of  Durie  dragged 
in  the  dirt  on  the  placard,  and  the  sometime  heir  of  that 
proud  family  set  up  cross-legged  in  public  for  reproach  upon 
his  brother's  meanness.  And  in  so  far  his  device  succeeded, 
that  there  was  murmuring  in  the  town  and  a  party  formed 
highly  inimical  to  my  lord.  My  lord's  favor  with  the  gov- 
ernor laid  him  more  open  on  the  other  side  ;  my  lady  (who 
was  never  so  well  received  in  the  colony)  met  with  painful 
innuendoes ;  in  a  party  of  women,  where  it  would  be  the 
topic  most  natural  to  introduce  she  was  almost  debarred 
from  the  naming  of  needlework  ;  and  I  have  seen  her  re- 
turn with  a  flushed  countenance  and  vow  that  she  would  go 
*tbroad  no  more. 


PA SSA GES  AT  NEW  VORK.  ^05 

In  the  mean  while,  my  lord  dwelled  in  his  decent  mansion,  / 
immersed  in  farming  :  a  popular  man  with  his  intimates,  and 
careless  or  unconscious  of  the  rest.  He  laid  on  flesh  ;  had 
a  bright,  busy  face  ;  even  the  heat  seemed  to  prosper  with 
him  ;  and  my  lady  (in  despite  of  her  own  annoyances)  daily 
blessed  Heaven  her  father  should  have  left  her  such  a  para- 
dise. She  had  looked  on  from  a  window  upon  the  Master's 
humiliation  ;  and  from  that  hour  appeared  to  feel  at  ease. 
I  was  not  so  sure  myself  ;  as  time  went  on  there  seemed  to 
me  a  something  not  quite  wholesome  in  my  lord's  condition  ; 
happy  he  was,  beyond  a  doubt,  but  the  ground's  of  this  felicity 
were  secret  ;  even  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  he  brooded 
with  manifest  delight  upon  some  private  thought ;  and  I  con- 
ceived at  last  a  suspicion  (quite  unworthy  of  us  both)  that  he 
kept  a  mistress  somewhere  in  the  town.  Yet  he  went  little 
abroad,  and  his  day  was  very  fully  occupied;  indeed  there  was 
but  a  single  period,  and  that  pretty  early  in  the  morning  while 
Mr.  Alexander  was  at  his  lesson-book,  of  which  I  was  not 
certain  of  the  disposition.  It  should  be  borne  in  mind,  in 
the  defense  of  that  which  I  now  did,  that  I  was  always  in 
some  fear  my  lord  was  not  quite  justly  in  his  reason  ;  and 
with  our  enemy  sitting  so  still  in  the  same  town  with  us,  I 
did  well  to  be  on  my  guard.  Accordingly  I  made  a  pre- 
text, had  the  hour  changed  at  which  I  taught  Mr.  Alexan- 
der the  foundation  of  cyphering  and  the  mathematic,  and 
set,  myself  instead  to  dog  my  master's  footsteps. 

Every  morning,  fair  or  foul,  he  took  his  gold-headed  cane, 
set  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head — a  recent  habitude, 
which  I  thought  to  indicate  a  burning  brow — and  betook 
himself  to  make  a  certain  circuit.  At  the  first  his  way  was 
among  pleasant  trees  and  beside  a  graveyard,  where  he 
would  sit  a  while,  if  the  day  were  fine,  in  meditation. 
Presently  the  path  turned  down  to  the  waterside  and  came 
back  along  the  harbor  front  and  past  the  Master's  booth. 
As  he  approached  this  second  part  of  his  circuit,  my  LorcJ 


2o6  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Durrisdeer  began  to  pace  more  leisurely,  like  a  man 
delighted  with  the  air  and  scene  ;  and  before  the  booth, 
half-way  between  that  and  the  water's  edge,  would  pause  a 
little  leaning  on  his  staff.  It  was  the  hour  when  the  Master 
sate  within  upon  his  board  and  plied  his  needle.  So  these 
two  brothers  would  gaze  upon  each  other  with  hard  faces ; 
and  then  my  lord  move  on  again,  smiling  to  himself. 

It  was  but  twice  that  I  must  stoop  to  that  ungrateful 
necessity  of  playing  spy.  I  was  then  certain  of  my  lord's 
purpose  in  his  rambles  and  of  the  secret  source  of  his 
delight.  Here  was  his  mistress  :  it  was  hatred  and  not 
love  that  gave  him  healthful  colors.  Some  moralists  might 
have  been  relieved  by  the  discovery ;  I  confess  that  I  was 
dismayed.  I  found  this  situation  of  two  brethren  not  only 
odious  in  itself,  but  big  with  possibilities  of  further  evil  ; 
and  I  made  it  my  practice,  in  so  far  as  many  occupations 
would  allow,  to  go  by  a  shorter  path  and  be  secretly  present 
at  their  meeting.  Coming  down  one  day  a  little  late,  after 
I  had  been  near  a  week  prevented,  I  was  struck  with  sur- 
prise to  find  a  new  development.  I  should  say  there  was  a 
bench  against  the  Master's  house,  where  customers  might 
sit  to  parley  with  the  shopman  :  and  here  I  found  my  lord 
seated,  nursing  his  cane  and  looking  pleasantly  forth  upon 
the  bay.  Not  three  feet  from  him  sate  the  Master  stitching. 
Neither  spoke  ;  nor  (in  this  new  situation)  did  my  lord  so 
much  as  cast  a  glance  upon  his  enemy  He  tasted  his 
neighborhood,  I  must  suppose,  less  indirectly  in  the  bare 
proximity  of  person  ;  and  without  doubt,  drank  deep  of 
hateful  pleasures. 

He  had  no  sooner  come  away  than  I  openly  joined  him. 

"  My  lord,  my  lord,"  said  I,  '*  this  is  no  manner  of 
behavior." 

"  I  grow  fat  upon  it,"  he  replied  ;  and  not  merely  the 
words,  which  were  strange  enough,  but  the  whole  character 
of  his  expression  shocked  me. 


PASSAGES  AT  NEW  VORlC.  207 

"  I  warn  you,  my  lord,  against  this  indulgency  of  evil 
feeling,"  said  I.  "  I  know  not  to  which  it  is  more  perilous, 
the  soul  or  the  reason :  but  you  go  the  way  to  murder 
both." 

"  You  cannot  understand,"  said  he.  "  You  had  never 
such  mountains  of  bitterness  upon  your  heart." 

"  And  if  it  were  no  more,"  I  added,  "  you  will  surely 
goad  the  man  to  some  extremity." 

"  To  the  contrary :  I  am  breaking  his  spirit,"  says  my 
lord. 

Every  morning  for  hard  upon  a  week,  my  lord  took  his 
same  place  upon  the  bench.  It  was  a  pleasant  place,  under 
the  green  acacias,  with  a  sight  upon  the  bay  and  shipping, 
and  a  sound  (from  some  way  off)  of  mariners  singing  at 
their  employ.  Here  the  two  sate  without  speech  or  any 
external  movement,  beyond  that  of  the  needle  or  the  Master 
biting  off  a  thread,  for  he  still  Qlung  to  his  pretense  of 
industry  ;  and  here  I  made  a  point  to  join  them,  wondering 
at  myself  and  my  companions.  If  any  of  my  lord's  friends 
went  by,  he  would  hail  them  cheerfully,  and  cry  out  he  was 
there  to  give  some  good  advice  to  his  brother,  who  was  now 
(to  his  delight)  grown  quite  industrious.  And  even  this, 
the  Master  accepted  with  a  steady  countenance  :  what  was 
in  his  mind,  God  knows,  or  perhaps  Satan  only. 

All  of  a  sudden,  on  a  still  day  of  what  they  call  the 
Indian  summer,  when  the  woods  were  changed  into  gold 
and  pink  and  scarlet,  the  Master  laid  down  his  needle  and 
burst  into  a  fit  of  merriment.  I  think  he  must  have  been 
preparing  it  a  long  while  in  silence,  for  the  note  in  itself 
was  pretty  naturally  pitched  ;  but  breaking  suddenly  from 
so  extreme  a  silence  and  in  circumstances  so  averse  from 
mirth,  it  sounded  ominously  on  my  ear. 

"  Henry,"  said  he,  *'  I  have  for  once  made  a  false  step, 
and  for  once  you  have  had  the  wit  to  profit  by  it.     The 


2o8  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

farce  of  the  cobbler  ends  to-day  ;  and  I  'confess  to  you 
(with  my  compliments)  that  you  have  had  the  best  of  it. 
Blood  will  out ;  and  you  have  certainly  a  choice  idea  of  how 
to  make  yourself  unpleasant." 

Never  a  word  said  my  lord  ;  it  was  just  as  though  the 
Master  had  not  broken  silence. 

"Come,"  resumed  the  Master,  "do  not  be  sulky,  it 
will  spoil  your  attitude.  You  can  now  afford  (believe  me)  to 
be  a  little  gracious  ;  for  I  have  not  merely  a  defeat  to  accept. 
I  had  meant  to  continue  this  performance  till  I  had  gathered 
enough  money  for  a  certain  purpose  ;  I  confess,  ingenu- 
ously, I  have  not  the  courage.  You  naturally  desire  my 
absence  from  this  town  ;  I  have  come  round  by  another 
way  to  the  same  idea.  And  I  have  a  proposition  to  make  ; 
or  if  your  lordship  prefers,  a  favor  to  ask." 

"  Ask  it,"  says  jny  lord. 

"  You  may  have  heard  that  I  had  once  in  this  country  a 
considerable  treasure,"  returned  the  Master  :  "  it  matters 
not  whether  or  no — such  is  the  fact ;  and  I  was  obliged  to 
bury  it  in  a  spot  of  which  I  have  sufficient  indications.  To 
the  recovery  of  this,  has  my  ambition  now  come  down  ;  and 
as  it  is  my  own,  you  will  not  grudge  it  to  me." 

"  Go  and  get  it,"  says  my  lord.     "  I  make  no  opposition." 

**Yes,"  said  the  Master,  "but  to  do  so  Tmust  find  men 
and  carriage.  The  way  is  long  and  rough,  and  the  country 
infested  with  wild  Indians.  Advance  me  only  so  much  as 
shall  be  needful :  either  as  a  lump  sum,  in  lieu  of  my  allow- 
ance ;  or  if  you  prefer  it,  as  a  loan,  which  I  shall  repay  on 
my  return.  And  then,  if  you  so  decide,  you  may  have  seen 
the  last  of  me." 

My  lord  stared  him  steadily  in  the  eyes  ;  there  was  a 
hard  smile  upon  his  face,  but  he  uttered  nothing. 

"  Henry,"  said  the  Master,  with  a  formidable  quietness, 
and  drawing  at  the  same  time  somewhat  back — "  Henry,  I 
had  the  honor  to  address  you." 


PASSAGES  AT  NEW  YORK.  209 

"  Let  us  be  stepping  homeward,"  says  my  lord  to  me, 
who  was  plucking  at  his  sleeve  ;  and  with  that  he  rose, 
stretched  himself,  settled  his  hat,  and  still  without  a  syllable 
of  response,  began  to  walk  steadily  along  the  shore. 

I  hesitated  awhile  between  the  two  brothers,  so  serious  a 
climax  did  we  seem  to  have  reached.  But  the  master  had 
resumed  his  occupation,  his  eyes  lowered,  his  hand  seem- 
ingly as  deft  as  ever  ;  and  I  decided  to  pursue  my  lord. 

*'  Are  you  mad  ?"  I  cried,  so  soon  as  I  had  overtook  him. 
"  Would  you  cast  away  so  fair  an  opportunity  ?  " 

"  Is  it  possible  you  should  still  believe  in  him?"  inquired 
my  lord,  almost  with  a  sneer. 

**  I  wish  him  forth  of  this  town,"  I  cried.  "  I  wish  him 
anywhere  and  anyhow  but  as  he  is." 

**  1  have  said  my  say,"  returned  my  lord,  "and  you  have 
said  yours.     There  let  it  rest." 

But  I  was  bent  on  dislodging  the  Master.  That  sight  of 
him  patiently  returning  to  his  needlework  was  more  than 
my  imagination  could  digest.  There  was  never  a  man  made, 
and  the  Master  the  least  of  any,  that  could  accept  so  long 
a  series  of  insults.  The  air  smelt  blood  to  me.  And  I 
vowed  there  should  be  no  neglect  of  mine  if,  through  any 
chink  of  possibility,  crime  could  be  yet  turned  aside.  That 
same  day,  therefore,  I  came  to  my  lord  in  his  business  room, 
where  he  sat  upon  some  trivial  occupation. 

"  My  lord,"  said  I,  "  I  have  found  a  suitable  investment 
for  my  small  economies.  But  these  are  unhappily  in  Scot- 
land ;  it  will  take  some  time  to  lift  them,  and  the  affair 
presses.  Could  your  lordship  see  his  way  to  advance  me 
the  amount  against  my  note  ?  " 

He  read  me  awhile  with  keen  eyes.  "  I  have  never  in- 
quired into  the  state  of  your  affairs,  Mackellar,"  says  he. 
"  Beyond  the  amount  of  your  caution,  you  may  not  be  worth 
a  farthing,  for  what  I  know." 

"I  have  been  a  long  while  in  your  service,  and  never  told 


^lo  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

a  lie,  nor  yet  asked  a  favor  for  myself,"  said   I,  "  until  to- 
day." 

"A  favor  for  the  Master,"  he  returned  quietly.  "Do 
you  take  me  for  a  fool,  Mackellar  ?  Understand  it  once  and 
for  all ;  I  treat  this  beast  in  my  own  way  ;  fear  nor  favor 
shall  not  move  me  ;  and  before  I  am  hoodwinked,  it  will  re- 
quire a  trickster  less  transparent  than  yourself.  I  ask  ser- 
vice, loyal  service;  not  that  you  should  make  and  mar 
behind  my  back,  and  steal  my  own  money  to  defeat  me." 

"  My  lord,"  said  I,  '*  these  are  very  unpardonable  ex- 
pressions." 

''Think  once  more,  Mackellar,"  he  replied;  "and  you 
will  see  they  fit  the  fact.  It  is  your  own  subterfuge  that  is 
unpardonable.  Deny  (if  you  can)  that  you  designed  this 
money  to  evade  my  orders  with,  and  I  will  ask  your  pardon 
freely.  If  you  cannot,  you  must  have  the  resolution  to  hear 
your  conauct  go  by  its  own  name." 

"  If  you  think  I  had  any  design  but  to  save  you.  ..."  I 
began. 

"  Oh,  my  old  friend,"  said  he,  "  you  know  very  well  what 
I  think  !  Here  is  my  hand  to  you  with  all  my  heart ;  but 
of  money,  not  one  rap." 

Defeated  upon  this  side,  I  went  straight  to  my  room, 
wrote  a  letter,  ran  with  it  to  the  harbor,  for  I  knew  a  ship 
was  on  the  point  of  sailing  :  and  came  to  the  Master's  door 
a  little  before  dusk.  Entering  without  the  form  of  any 
knock,  I  found  him  sitting  with  his  Indian  at  a  simple  meal 
of  maize  porridge  with  some  milk.  The  house  within  was 
clean  and  poor  ;  only  a  few  books  upon  a  shelf  distinguished 
it,  and  (in  one  corner)  Secundra's  little  bench. 
,  "Mr.  Bally,"  said  I,  "I  have  near  five  hundred  pounds 
Maid  by  in  Scotland,  the  economies  of  a  hard  life.  A  letter 
goes  by  yon  ship  to  have  it  lifted  ;  have  so  much  patience 
till  the  return  ship  comes  in,  and  it  is  all  yours,  upon  the 
same  condition  you  offered  to  my  lord  this  morning." 


~     PASSAGES  AT  NEW  YORK.  211 

He  rose  from  the  table,  came  forward,  took  me  by  the 
shoulders,  and  looked  me  in  the  face,  smiling. 

"  And  yet  you  are  very  fond  of  money  !  "  said  he.     "  And  ^ 
yet   you   love   money   beyond   all  things   else,  except  my 
brother  !  " 

"  I  fear  old  age  and  poverty,"  said  I,  "which  is  another 
matter." 

"  I  will  never  quarrel  for  a  name.  Call  it  so  !  "  he 
replied.  "  Ah,  Mackellar,  Mackellar,  if  this  were  done  from 
any  love  to  me,  how  gladly  would  I  close  upon  your  offer  !  " 

"  And  yet,"  I  eagerly  answered —  "  I  say  it  to  my  shame, 
but  I  cannot  see  you  in  this  poor  place  without  compunc- 
tion. It  is  not  my  single  thought,  nor  my  first  ;  and  yet  it's 
there  !  I  would  gladly  see  you  delivered.  I  do  not  offer 
it  in  love,  and  far  from  that  ;  but  as  God  judges  me — and 
I  wonder  at  it  too  ! — quite  without  enmity." 

"  Ah,"  says  he,  still  holding  my  shoulders  and  now  gently 
shaking  me,  "  you  think  more  of  me  than  you  suppose. 
*  And  I  wonder  at  it  too,'  "  he  added,  repeating  my  expres- 
sion and  I  suppose  something  of  my  voice.  "  You  are  an 
honest  man,  and  for  that  cause  I  spare  you." 

"  Spare  me  ?  "  I  cried. 

"  Spare  you,"  he  repeated,  letting  me  go  and  turning 
away.      And  then,  fronting  me  once  more  :   "  You  little 
know  what  I  would  do  with  it,  Mackellar  !      Did  you  think 
I  had  swallowed  my  defeat  indeed  ?     Listen  :  my  life  has 
been  a  series  of  unmerited  cast-backs.      That  fool,  Prince    / 
Charlie,  mismanaged  a  most  promising  affair  ;  there  fell  my^ 
first  fortune.     In  Paris  I  had  my  foot  once  more  high  upon 
the  ladder  ;  that  time  it  was  an  accident,  a  letter  came  to^ 
the  wrong  hand,  and  I  was  bare  again.     A  third  time  I       . 
found  my  opportunity  ;  I  built  up  a  place  for  myself  in  y 
India  with  an  infinite  patience  ;  and  then  Clive  came,  my 
rajah  was  swallowed  up,  and  I  escaped  out  of  the  convul- 
sion, like  another  .^neas,  with  Secundra  Dass  upon  my 


212  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

back.  Three  times  I  have  had  my  hand  upon  the  highest 
station  ;  and  I  am  not  yet  three  and  forty.  I  know  the 
world  as  few  men  know  it  when  they  come  to  die,  court 
i^nd  camp,  the  east  and  the  west ;  I  know  where  to  go  ;  I 
see  a  thousand  openings.  I  am  now  at  the  height  of  my 
resources,  sound  of  health,  of  inordinate  ambition.  Well, 
all  this  I  resign ;  I  care  not  if  I  die  and  the  world  never 
hear  of  me  ;  I  care  only  for  one  thing,  and  that  I  will  have. 
Mind  yourself,  lest,  when^the  roof  falls,  you  too  should  be 
crushed  under  the  ruins." 

As  I  came  out  of  his  house,  all  hope  of  intervention 
quite  destroyed,  I  was  aware  of  a  stir  on  the  harbor  side, 
and  raising  my  eyes,  there  was  a  great  ship  newly  come  to 
anchor.  It  seems  strange  I  could  have  looked  upon  her 
with  so  much  indifference,  for  she  brought  death  to  the 
brothers  of  Durrisdeer.  After  all  the  desperate  episodes 
of  this  contention,  the  insults,  the  opposing  interests,  the 

/fraternal  duel  in  the  shrubbery,  it  was  reserved  for  some 
poor  devil  in  Grub  Street,  scribbling  for  his  dinner  and 
not  caring  what  he  scribbled,  to  cast  a  spell  across  four 
thousand  miles  of  the  salt  sea,  and  send  forth  both  these 

/  brothers  into  savage  and  wintry  deserts,  there  to  die.  But 
such  a  thought  was  distant  from  my  mind  ;  and  while  all 
the  provincials  were  fluttered  about  me  by  the  unusual 
animation  of  their  port,  I  passed  throughout  their  midst  on 
my  return  homeward,  quite  absorbed  in  the  recollection  of 
my  visit  and  the  Master's  speech. 

The  same  night  there  was  brought  to  us  from  the  ship  a 
little  packet  of  pamphlets.  The  next  day  my  lord  was 
under  engagement  to  go  with  the  governor  upon  some 
party  of  pleasure  ;  the  time  was  nearly  due,  and  I  left  him 
for  a  moment  alone  in  his  room  and  skimming  through  the 
pamphlets.  When  I  returned  his  head  had  fallen  upon  the 
table,  his  arms  lying  abroad  amongst  the  crumpled  papers 


PASSAGES  AT  NEW  YORK.  213 

'*  My  lord,  my  lord  !  "  I  cried,  as  I  ran  forward,  for  I 
supposed  he  was  in  some  fit. 

He  sprang  up  like  a  figure  upon  wires,  his  countenance 
deformed  with  fury,  so  that  in  a  strange  place  I  should 
scarce  have  known  him.  His  hand  at  the  same  time  flew 
above  his  head,  as  though  to  strike  me  down.  "  Leave  me 
alone  !  "  he  shrieked  ;  and  I  fled,  as  fast  as  my  shaking 
legs  would  bear  me,  for  my  lady.  She  too  lost  no  time  ; 
but  when  we  returned  he  had  the  door  locked  within,  and 
only  cried  to  us  from  the  other  side  to  leave  him  be.  We 
looked  in  each  other's  faces,  very  white,  each  supposing 
the  blow  had  come  at  last. 

"  I  will  write  to  the  governor  to  excuse  him,"  says  she. 
"  We  must  keep  our  strong  friends."  But  when  she  took 
up  the  pen  it  flew  out  of  her  fingers.  "  I  cannot  write," 
said  she.     "  Can  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  make  a  shift,  my  lady,"  said  I. 

She  looked  over  me  as  I  wrote.  "  That  will  do,"  she 
said,  when  I  had  done.  "  Thank  God,  Mackellar,  I  have 
you  to  lean  upon  !  But  what  can  it  be  now  ?  What,  what 
can  it  be  ?  " 

In  my  own  mind,  I  believed  there  was  no  explanation 
possible  and  none  required  ;  it  was  my  fear  that  the  man's 
madness  had  now  simply  burst  forth  its  way,  like  the  long- 
smothered  flames  of  a  volcano  ;  but  to  this  (in  mere  mercy 
to  my  lady)  I  durst  not  give  expression. 

"  It  is  more  to  the  purpose  to  consider  our  own  behav- 
ior," said  I.     "  Must  we  leave  him  there  alone  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  dare  disturb  him,"  she  replied.  "  Nature 
may  know  best ;  it  may  be  nature  that  cries  to  be  alone  ; 
and  we  grope  in  the  dark.  O  yes,  I  would  leave  him  as 
he  is." 

"  I  will  then  despatch  this  letter,  my  lady,  and  return 
here,  if  you  please,  to  sit  with  you,"  said  I, 

**  Pray  do,"  cries  my  lady. 


214  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

All  afternoon  we  sat  together,  mostly  in  silence,  watching 
my  lord's  door.  My  own  mind  was  busy  with  the  scene 
that  had  just  passed,  and  its  singular  resemblance  to  my 
vision.  I  must  say  a  word  upon  this,  for  the  story  has 
gone  abroad  with  great  exaggeration,  and  I  have  even  seen 
it  printed  and  my  own  name  referred  to  for  particulars. 
So  much  was  the  same  :  here  was  my  lord  in  a  room,  with 
his  head  upon  the  table,  and  when  he  raised  his  face  it 
wore  such  an  expression  as  distressed  me  to  the  soul.  But 
the  room  was  different,  my  lord's  attitude  at  the  table  not 
at  all  the  same,  and  his  face,  when  he  disclosed  it,  expressed 
a  painful  degree  of  fury  instead  of  that  haunting  despair 
which  had  always  (except  once,  already  referred  to)  char- 
acterized it  in  the  vision.  There  is  the  whole  truth  at  last 
before  the  public  ;  and  if  the  differences  be  great,  the  co- 
incidence was  yet  enough  to  fill  me  with  uneasiness.  All 
afternoon,  as  I  say,  I  sat  and  pondered  on  this  quite  to 
myself,  for  my  lady  had  trouble  of  her  own,  and  it  was  my 
last  thought  to  vex  her  with  fancies.  About  the  midst  of 
our  time  of  waiting  she  conceived  an  ingenious  scheme, 
had  'Mr.  Alexander  fetched,  and  bade  him  knock  at  his 
father's  door.  My  lord  sent  the  boy  about  his  business, 
but  without  the  least  violence  whether  of  manner  or  ex- 
pression ;  so  that  I  began  to  entertain  a  hope  the  fit  was 
over. 

At  last,  as  the  night  fell  and  I  was  lighting  a  lamp  that 
stood  there  trimmed,  the  door  opened  and  my  lord  stood 
within  upon  the  threshold.  The  light  was  not  so  strong 
that  we  could  read  his  countenance  ;  when  he  spoke,  me- 
thought  his  voice  a  little  altered  but  yet  perfectly  steady. 

"  Mackellar,"  said  he,  "  carry  this  note  to  its  destination 
with  your  own  hand.  It  is  highly  private.  Find  the  per- 
son alone  when  you  deliver  it." 

"  Henry,"  says  my  lady,  "you  are  not  ill?" 

"  No,  no,"  says  he  querulously,  "I  am  occupied.     Not 


PA SSA GES  AT  NEW  YORK,  2 1 5 

at  all ;  I  am  only  occupied.  It  is  a  singular  thing  a  man 
must  be  supposed  to  be  ill  when  he  has  any  business! 
Send  me  supper  to  this  room,  and  a  basket  of  wine  :  I  ex- 
pect the  visit  of  a  friend.  Otherwise  I  am  not  to  be  dis- 
turbed." 

And  with  that  he  once  more  shut  himself  in. 

The  note  was  addressed  to  one  Captain  Harris,  at  a 
tavern  on  the  portside.  I  knew  Harris  (by  reputation)  for  > 
a  dangerous  adventurer,  highly  suspected  of  piracy  in  the*^ 
past,  and  now  following  the  rude  business  of  an  Indian 
trader.  What  my  lord  should  have  to  say  to  him,  or  he  to 
my  lord,  it  passed  my  imagination  to  conceive :  or  yet  how 
my  lord  had  heard  of  him,  unless  by  a  disgraceful  trial  from 
which  the  man  was  recently  escaped.  Altogether  I  went 
upon  the  errand  with  reluctance,  and  from  the  little  I  saw 
of  the  Captain,  returned  from  it  with  sorrow.  I  found  him 
in  a  foul-smelling  chamber,  sitting  by  a  guttering  candle 
and  an  empty  bottle ;  he  had  the  remains  of  a  military 
carriage,  or  rather  perhaps  it  was  an  affectation,  for  his 
manners  were  low. 

<*Tell  my  lord,  with  my  service,  that  I  will  wait  upon  his 
lordship  in  the  inside  of  half  an  hour/'  says  he,  when  he 
had  read  the  note  ;  and  then  had  the  servility,  pointing  to 
his  empty  bottle,  to  propose  that  I  should  buy  him  liquor. 

Although  I  returned  with  my  best  speed,  the  Captain 
followed  close  upon  my  heels,  and  he  stayed  late  into  the 
night.  The  cock  was  crowing  a  second  time  when  I  saw 
(from  my  chamber  window)  my  lord  lighting  him  to  the 
gate,  both  men  very  much  affected  with  their  potations  and 
sometimes  leaning  one  upon  the  other  to  confabulate.  Yet 
the  next  morning  my  lord  was  abroad  again  early  with  a 
hundred  pounds  of  money  in  his  pocket.  I  never  supposed 
that  he  returned  with  it ;  and  yet  I  was  quite  sure  it  did 
not  find  its  way  to  the  Master,  for  I  lingered  all  morning 
within  view  of  th-e  booth.     That  was  the  last  time  my  Lord 


/ 


2l6  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Durrisdeer  passed  his  own  enclosure  till  we  left  New  York  ; 
he  walked  in  his  barn  or  sat  and  talked  with  his  family,  all 
much  as  usual ;  but  the  town  saw  nothing  of  him,  and  his 
daily  visits  to  the  Master  seemed  forgotten.  Nor  yet  did 
Harris  reappear ;  or  not  until  the  end. 

I  was  now  much  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  the  mysteries 
in  which  we  had  begun  to  move.  It  was  plain,  if  only  from 
his  change  of  habitude,  my  lord  had  something  on  his  mind 
of  a  grave  nature  ;  but  what  it  was,  whence  it  sprang,  or 
why  he  should  now  keep  the  house  and  garden,  I  could 
make  no  guess  at.  It  was  clear,  even  to  probation,  the 
pamphlets  had  some  share  in  this  revolution  ;  I  read  all  I 
could  find,  and  they  were  all  extremely  insignificant  and  of 
the  usual  kind  of  party  scurrility  ;  even  to  a  high  politician, 
I  could  spy  out  no  particular  matter  of  offense,  and  my 
lord  was  a  man  rather  indifferent  on  public  questions.  The 
truth  is,  the  pamphlet  which  was  the  spring  of  this  affair 
lay  all  the  time  on  my  lord's  bosom.  There  it  was  that  I 
found  it  at  last,  after  he  was  dead,  in  the  midst  of  the  north 
wilderness  :  in  such  a  place,  in  such  dismal  circumstances, 
I  was  to  read  for  the  first  time  these  idle,  lying  words  of  a 
whig  pamphleteer  declaiming  against  indulgency  to  Jacob- 
ites :  "Another  notorious  Rebel,  the  M r  of  B ^,  is 

to  have  his  Title  restored,"  the  passage  ran.  "  This  Busi- 
ness has  been  long  in  hand,  since  he  rendered  some  very 
disgraceful  Services  in  Scotland  and  France.     His  Brother, 

L d  D r,  is  known  to  be  no  better  than  himself  in 

Inclination  ;  and  the  supposed  Heir,  who  is  now  to  be  set 
aside,  was  bred  up  in  the  most  detestable  Principles.  In 
the  old  Phrase,  it  is  six  of  the  one  and  half  a  doze?t  of  the 
other;  but  the  Favor  of  such  a  Reposition  is  too  extreme  to 
be  passed  over."  A  man  in  his  right  wits  could  not  have 
cared  two  straws  for  a  tale  so  manifestly  false  ;  that  govern- 
ment should  ever  entertain  the  notion  was  inconceivable  to 
any  reasoning  creature,  unless  possibly  the  fool  that  penned 


PASSAGES  AT  NEW  YORK.  217 

it ;  and  my  lord,  though  never  brilliant,  was  ever  remark- 
able for  sense.  That  he  should  credit  such  a  rodomontade, 
and  carry  the  pamphlet  on  his  bosom  and  the  words  in  his 
heart,  is  the  clear  proof  of  the  man's  lunacy.  Doubtless  the 
mere  mention  of  Mr.  Alexander,  and  the  threat  directly  held 
out  against  the  child's  succession,  precipitated  that  which 
had  so  long  impended.  Or  else  my  master  had  been  truly 
mad  for  a  long  time,  and  we  were  too  dull  or  too  much  used 
to  him,  and  did  not  perceive  the  extent  of  his  infirmity. 

About  a  week  after  the  day  of  the  pamphlets  I  was  late 
upon  the  harbor-side,  and  took  a  turn  toward  the  Master's, 
as  I  often  did.  The  door  opened,  a  flood  of  light  came 
forth  upon  the  road,  and  I  beheld  a  man  taking  his  depart- 
ure with  friendly  salutations.  I  cannot  say  how  singularly 
I  was  shaken  to  recognize  the  adventurer  Harris.  I  could 
not  but  conclude  it  was  the  hand  of  my  lord  that  had 
brought  him  there  ;  and  prolonged  my  walk  in  very  serious 
and  apprehensive  thought.  It  was  late  when  I  came  home, 
and  there  was  my  lord  making  up  his  portmanteau  for  a 
voyage. 

"  Why  do  you  come  so  late  ? "  he  cried.  "  We  leave  to- 
morrow for  Albany,  you  and  I  together  ;  and  it  is  high  time 
you  were  about  your  preparations." 

"  For  Albany,  my  lord  ? "  I  cried.  "  And  for  what  earthly 
purpose  ?" 

"  Change  of  scene,"  said  he. 

And  my  lady,  who  appeared  to  have  been  weeping,  gave 
me  the  signal  to  obey  without  more  parley.  She  told  me  a 
little  later  (when  we  found  occasion  to  exchange  some 
words)  that  he  had  suddenly  announced  his  intention  after  a 
visit  from  Captain  Harris,  and  her  best  endeavors,  whether 
to  dissuade  him  from  the  journey  or  to  elicit  some  explana- 
tion of  its  purpose,  had  alike  proved  unavailing. 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

We  made  a  prosperous  voyage  up  that  fine  river  of  the 
Hudson,  the  weather  grateful,  the  hills  singularly  beautified 
with  the  colors  of  the  autumn.  At  Albany  we  had  our  res- 
idence at  an  inn,  where  I  was  not  so  blind  and  my  lord  not 
so  cunning  but  what  I  could  see  he  had  some  design  to 
hold  me  prisoner.  The  work  he  found  for  me  to  do  was 
not  so  pressing  that  we  should  transact  it  apart  from  neces- 
sary papers  in  the  chamber  of  an  inn ;  nor  was  it  of  such 
importance  that  I  should  be  set  upon  as  many  as  four  or 
five  scrolls  of  the  same  document.  I  submitted  in  appear- 
ance  ;  but  I  took  private  measures  on  my  own  side,  and  had 
the  news  of  the  town  communicated  to  me  daily  by  the 
politeness  of  our  host.  In  this  way  I  received  at  last  a 
piece  of  intelligence  for  which,  I  may  say,  I  had  been  wait- 
ing. Captain  Harris  (I  was  told)  with  "  Mr.  Mountain  the 
trader  "  had  gone  by  up  the  river  in  a  boat.  I  would  have 
feared  the  landlord's  eye,  so  strong  the  sense  of  some  com- 
plicity upon  my  master's  part  oppressed  me.  But  I  made 
out  to  say  I  had  some  knowledge  of  the  captain,  although 
none  of  Mr.  Mountain,  and  to  inquire  who  else  was  of  the 
party.  My  informant  knew  not ;  Mr.  Mountain  had  come 
ashore  upon  some  needful  purchases  ;  had  gone  round  the 
town  buying,  drinking,  and  prating  ;  and  it  seemed  the 
party  went  upon  some  likely  venture,  for  he  had  spoken 
much  of  great  things  he  would  do  when  he  returned.  No 
more  was  known,  for  none  of  the  rest  had  come  ashore,  and 
it  seemed  they  were  pressed  for  time  to  reach  a  certain  spot 
before  the  snow  should  fall. 

And  sure  enough,  the  next  day,  there  fell  a  sprinkle  even 

218 


THE  JO  URNE  V  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  2 1 9 

in  Albany  ;  but  it  passed  as  it  came,  and  was  but  a  reminder 
of  what  lay  before  us.  I  thought  of  it  lightly  then,  know- 
ing so  little  as  I  did  of  that  inclement  province :  the  retro- 
spect is  different  ;  and  I  wonder  at  times  if  some  of  the 
horror  of  these  events  which  I  must  now  rehearse  flowed 
not  from  the  foul  skies  and  savage  winds  to  which  we  were 
exposed,  and  the  agony  of  cold  that  we  must  suffer. 

The  boat  having  passed  by,  I  thought  at  first  we  should 
have  left  the  town.     But  no  such  matter.     My  lord  contin- 
ued his  stay  in  Albany  where  he  had  no  ostensible  affairs, 
and  kept  me  by  him,  far  from  my  due  employment,  and 
making  a  pretence  of  occupation.     It  is  upon  this  passage  I 
expect,  and  perhaps,  deserve  censure.     I  was  not  so  dull  but 
what  I  had  my  own  thoughts.     I  could  not  see  the  master 
entrust  himself  into  the  hands  of  Harris,  and  not  suspect 
some   underhand    contrivance.     Harris    bore  a   villainous! 
reputation,  and  he  had  been  tampered  with  in  private  by  \ 
my  lord  ;  Mountain  the  trader  proved  upon  inquiry  to  be  j 
another  of  the  same  kidney  ;  the  errand  they  were  all  gone  * 
upon,  being  the  recovery  of  ill-gotten  treasures,  offered  in  »^ 
itself  a  very  strong  incentive  to  foul  play  ;  and  the  character    J 
of  the  country  where  they  journeyed  promised  impunity  to  J 
deeds  of  blood.     Well  :  it  is  true  I  had  all  these  thoughts 
and  fears  and  guesses  of  the  Master's  fate.     But  you  are 
to  consider  I  was  the   same  man  that  sought  to  dash  him 
from  the  bulwarks  of  a  ship  in  the  mid-sea  ;  the  same  that, 
a  little  before,  very  impiously  but  sincerely  offered  God  a' 
bargain,  seeking  to  hire  God  to  be  my  bravo.     It  is  true 
again  that  I  had  a  good  deal  melted  toward  our  enemy. 
But  this  I  always  thought  of  as  a  weakness  of  the  flesh  and 
even  culpable  ;  my  mind  remaining  steady  and  quite  bent 
against   him.     True   yet   again,  that   it  was  one   thing  to 
assume  on  my  own  shoulders  the  guilt  and  danger  of  a 
criminal  attempt,  and  another  to  stand  by  and  see  my  lord 
imperil  and    besmirch    himself.     But    this  was  the  very 


2  2  o  THE  MA  S  TER  OF  BA  LLA  NTRA  E. 

ground  of  my  inaction.  For  (should  I  any  way  stir  in  the 
business)  I  might  fail  indeed  to  serve  the  Master,  but  I 
could  not  miss  to  make  a  byword  of  my  lord. 

Thus  it  was  that  I  did  nothing  ;  and  upon  the  same 
reasons,  I  am  still  strong  to  justify  my  course.  We  lived 
meanwhile  in  Albany,  but  though  alone  together  in  a 
strange  place,  had  little  traffic  beyond  formal  salutations. 
My  lord  had  carried  with  him  several  introductions  to  chief 
people  of  the  town  and  neighborhood  ;  others  he  had  before 
encountered  in  New  York  ;  with  this  consequence,  that  he 
went  much  abroad,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  was  altogether 
too  convivial  in  his  habits.  I  was  often  in  bed,  but  never 
asleep,  when  he  returned  ;  and  there  was  scarce  a  night 
when  he  did  not  betray  the  influence  of  liquor.  By  day  he 
would  still  lay  upon  me  endless  tasks,  which  he  showed 
considerable  ingenuity  to  fish  up  and  to  renew,  in  the  man- 
ner of  Penelope's  web.  I  never  refused,  as  I  say,  for  I  was 
hired  to  do  his  bidding  ;  but  I  took  no  pains  to  keep  my 
penetration  under  a  bushel,  and  would  sometimes  smile  in 
his  face. 

"  I  think  I  must  be  the  devil  and  you  Michael  Scott,"  I 
said  to  him  one  day.  "  I  have  bridged  Tweed  and  split  the 
Eildons  ;  and  now  you  set  me  to  the  rope  of  sand." 

He  looked  at  me  with  shining  eyes  and  looked  away  again, 
his  jaw  chewing  ;  but  without  words. 

"■  Well,  well,  my  lord,"  said  I,  "  your  will  is  my  pleasure, 
r  will  do  this  thing  for  the  fourth  time  ;  but  I  would  beg  of 
you  to  invent  another  task  against  to-morrow,  for  by  my 
troth,  I  am  weary  of  this  one." 

**  You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying,"  returned  my 
lord,  putting  on  his  hat  and  turning  his  back  to  me.  *'  It  is 
a  strange  thing  you  should  take  a  pleasure  to  annoy  me.  A 
friend — but  that  is  a  different  affair.  It  is  a  strange  thing. 
ft  am  a  man  that  has  had  ill-fortune  all  my  life  through.  I 
^am  still  surrounded  by  contrivances.     I  am  always  treading 


THE  JO  URNE  V  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  2  2 1 

in  plots,"  he  burst  out.  *'  The  whole  world  is  banded 
against  me." 

"  I  would  not  talk  wicked  nonsense  if  I  were  you,"  said 
I  ;  "  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  would  do — I  would  put  my 
head  in  cold  water,  for  you  had  more  last  night  than  you 
could  carry." 

"  Do  ye  think  that  ? "  said  he,  with  a  manner  of  interest 
highly  awakened.  "  Would  that  be  good  for  me  ?  It's  a 
thing  I  never  tried." 

"  I  mind  the  days  when  you  had  no  call  to  try,  and  I  wish, 
my  lord,  that  they  were  back  again,"  said  I.  "  But  the 
plain  truth  is,  if  you  continue  to  exceed,  you  will  do  your- 
self a  mischief." 

"  I  don't  appear  to  carry  drink  the  way  I  used  to,"  said 
my  lord.  "  I  get  overtaken,  Mackellar.  But  I  will  be  more 
upon  my  guard." 

''■  That  is  what  I  would  ask  of  you,"  I  replied.  "  You  are 
to  bear  in  mind  that  you  are  Mr.  Alexander's  father  :  give 
the  bairn  a  chance  to  carry  his  name  with  some  responsi- 
bility." 

'*  Ay^  ay,"  said  he.  "  Ye're  a  very  sensible  man,  Mackel- 
lar, and  have  been  long  in  my  employ.  But  I  think,  if  you 
have  nothing  more  to  say  to  me,  I  will  be  stepping.  If  you 
have  nothing  more  to  say  ? "  he  added,  with  that  burning, 
childish  eagerness  that  was  now  so  common  with  the  man. 

"  No,  my  lord,  I  have  nothing  more,"  said  I,  dryly 
enough. 

"Then  I  think  I  will  be  stepping,"  says  my  lord,  and 
stood  and  looked  at  me,  fidgeting  with  his  hat,  which  he  had 
taken  off  again.  •'  I  suppose  you  will  have  no  errands  ? 
No  ?  I  am  to  meet  Sir  William  Johnson,  but  I  will  be  more 
upon  my  guard."  He  was  silent  for  a  time,  and  then,  smil- 
ing :  "  Do  you  call  to  mind  a  place,  Mackellar — it's  a  little 
below  Engles — where  the  burn  runs  very  deep  under  a 
wood  of  rowans  ?    I  mind  being  there  when  I  was  a  lad — 


22  2  THE  MASTER  OP  BALLANTRAE. 

dear,  it  comes  over  me  like  an  old  song  ! — I  was  after  the 
fishing,  and  I  made  a  bonny  cast.  Eh,  but  I  was  happy.  I 
vwonder,  Mackellar,  why  I  am  never  happy  now  ?  " 

"  My  lord,"  said  I,  **  if  you  would  drink  with  more  mod- 
eration you  would  have  the  better  chance.  It  is  an  old  by- 
word that  the  bottle  is  a  false  consoler." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  he,  "  no  doubt.  Well,  I  think  I  will  be 
going." 

"  Good-morning,  my  lord,"  said  I. 

"  Good-morning,  good-morning,"  said  he,  and  so  got  him- 
self at  last  from  the  apartment. 

I  give  that  for  a  fair  specimen  of  my  lord  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  and  I  must  have  described  my  patron  very  ill  if  the 
reader  does  not  perceive  a  notable  falling  off.  To  behold 
the  man  thus  fallen  :  to  know  him  accepted  among  his  com- 
/panions  for  a  poor,  muddled  toper,  welcome  (if  he  were 
welcome  at  all)  for  the  bare  consideration  of  his  title  ;  and 
to  recall  the  virtues  he  had  once  displayed  against  such  odds 
^of  fortune  :  was  not  this  a  thing  at  once  to  rage  and  to  be 
humbled  at  ? 

In  his  cups,  he  was  more  excessive.  I  will  give  but  the 
one  scene,  close  upon  the  end,  which  is  strongly  marked 
upon  my  memory  to  this  day,  and  at  the  time,  affected  me 
almost  with  horror. 

I  was  in  bed,  lying  there  awake,  when  I  heard  him  stumbl- 
ing on  the  stair  and  singing.  My  lord  had  no  gift  of  mu- 
sic, his  brother  had  all  the  graces  of  the  family,  so  that 
when  I  say  singing,  you  are  to  understand  a  manner  of  high, 
caroling  utterance,  which  was  truly  neither  speech  nor 
song.  Something  not  unlike  is  to  be  heard  upon  the  lips  of 
children,  ere  they  learn  shame  ;  from  those  of  a  man  grown 
elderly,  it  had  a  strange  effect.  He  opened  the  door  with 
noisy  precaution  ;  peered  in,  shading  his  candle  ;  conceived 
me  to  slumber  ;  entered,  set  his  light  upon  the  table,  and 
took  off  his  hat.     I  saw  him  very  plain  ;  a  high,  feverish 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  ^23 

exultation  appeared  to  boil  in  his  veins,  and  he  stood  and 
smiled  and  smirked  upon  the  candle.  Presently  he  lifted  up 
his  arm,  snapped  his  fingers,  and  fell  to  undress.  As  he  did 
so,  having  once  more  forgot  my  presence,  he  took  back  to 
his  singing  ;  and  now  I  could  hear  the  words,  which  were 
those  from  the  old  song  of  the  Twa  Corbies^  endlessly  re- 
peated : 

"  And  over  his  banes  when  they  are  bare 
The  wind  sail  blaw  for  evermair  J  " 

I  have  said  there  was  no  music  in  the  man.  His  strains 
had  no  logical  succession  except  in  so  far  as  they  inclined  a 
little  to  the  minor  mode  ;  but  they  exercised  a  rude  potency 
upon  the  feelings,  and  followed  the  words,  and  signified  the 
feelings  of  the  singer  with  barbaric  fitness.  He  took  it  first 
in  the  time  and  manner  of  a  rant  ;  presently  this  ill-favored 
gleefulness  abated,  he  began  to  dwell  upon  the  notes  more 
feelingly,  and  sank  at  last  into  a  degree  of  maudlin  pathos 
that  was  to  me  scarce  bearable.  By  equal  steps,  the  origi- 
nal briskness  of  his  acts  declined  ;  and  when  he  was  stripped 
to  his  breeches,  he  sat  on  the  bedside  and  fell  to  whimper- 
ing. I  know  nothing  less  respectable  than  the  tears  of 
drunkenness,  and  turned  my  back  impatiently  on  this  poor 
sight. 

But  he  had  started  himself  (I  am  to  suppose)  on  that 
slippery  descent  of  self-pity  ;  on  the  which,  to  a  man  un- 
strung by  old  sorrows  and  recent  potations,  there  is  no 
arrest  except  exhaustion.  His  tears  continued  to  flow,  and 
the  man  to  sit  there,  three  parts  naked,  in  the  cold  air  of 
the  chamber.  I  twitted  myself  alternately  with  inhumanity 
and  sentimental  weakness,  now  half  rising  in  my  bed  to 
interfere,  now  reading  myself  lessons  of  indifference  and 
courting  slumber,  until,  upon  a  sudden,  the  quantuin  mutatus 
ab  illo  shot  into  my  mind  ;  calling  to  remembrance  his  old 
wisdom,  constancy,  and  patience,  I  was  overborne  with  a 


224  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

pity  almost  approaching  the  passionate,  not  for  my  master 
alone  but  for  the  sons  of  man. 

At  this  I  leaped  from  my  place,  went  over  to  his  side  and 
laid  a  hand  on  his  bare  shoulder,  which  was  cold  as  stone. 
He  uncovered  his  face  and  showed  it  me  all  swollen  and 
begrutten  *  like  a  child's  ;  and  at  the  sight  my  impatience 
partially  revived. 

"Think  shame  to  yourself,"  said  I.     "This  is  bairnly 

conduct.     I  might  have  been  sniveling  myself,  if  I  had  cared 

to  swill  my  belly  with  wine.     But  I  went  to  my  bed  sober 

^like  a  man.     Come  :  get  into  yours,  and  "have  done  with 

this  pitiable  exhibition." 

"  Oh,  Mackellar,"  said  he,  "  my  heart  is  wae  !  " 
"  Wae  ?  "  cried  I.  "For  a  good  cause,  I  think.  What 
words  were  these  you  sang  as  you  came  in  ?  Show  pity 
to  others,  we  then  can  talk  of  pity  to  yourself.  You  can  be 
the  one  thing  or  the  other,  but  I  will  be  no  party  to  half- 
way houses.  If  you're  a  striker,  strike,  and  if  you're  a 
bleater,  bleat !  " 

"  Cry  !  "  cries  he,  with  a  burst,  "  that's  it— strike  !  that's 
talking  !  Man,  I've  stood  it  all  too  long.  But  when  they 
laid  a  hand  upon  the  child,  when  the  child's  threatened  " — 
his  momentary  vigor  whimpered  off — "  my  child,  my  Alex- 
ander !  " — and  he  was  at  his  tears  again. 

I  took  him  by  the  shoulders  and  shook  him.  "  Alex- 
ander !  "  said  I.  "  Do  you  even  think  of  him  ?  Not  you  ! 
Look  yourself  in  the  face  like  a  brave  man,  and  you'll  find 
you're  but  a  self-deceiver.  The  wife,  the  friend,  the  child, 
they're  all  equally  forgot,  arid  you  sunk  in  a  mere  log  of 
selfishness." 

"  Mackellar,"  said  he,  with  a  wonderful  return  to  his  old 
manner  and  appearance,  "you  may  say  what  you  will  of  me, 
but  one  thing  I  never  was — I  was  never  selfish." 

"  I  will  open  your  eyes  in  your  despite,"  said  I.     "  How 

*  Tear-marked, 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  225 

long  have  we  been  here  ?  and  how  often  have  you  written 
to  your  family  ?  I  think  this  is  the  first  time  you  were  ever 
separate  ;  have  you  written  at  all  ?  Do  they  know  if  you 
are  dead  or  living  ?  " 

I  had  caught  him  here  too  openly  ;  it  braced  his  better 
nature  ;  there  was  no  more  weeping,  he  thanked  me  very 
penitently,  got  to  bed  and  was  soon  fast  asleep ;  and  the 
first  thing  he  did  the  next  morning,  was  to  sit  down  and 
begin  a  letter  to  my  lady  ;  a  very  tender  letter  it  was  too, 
though  it  was  never  finished.  Indeed  all  communication 
with  New  York  was  transacted  by  myself  ;  and  it  will  bev/ 
judged  I  had  a  thankless  task  of  it.  What  to  tell  my  lady 
and  in  what  words,  and  how  far  to  be  false  and  how  far 
cruel,  was  a  thing  that  kept  me  often  from  my  slumber. 

All  this  while,  no  doubt,  my  lord  waited  with  growing 
impatiency  for  news  of  his  accomplices.  Harris,  it  is  to  be 
thought,  had  promised  a  high  degree  of  expedition ;  the 
time  was  already  overpast  when  word  was  to  be  looked  for  ; 
and  suspense  was  a  very  evil  counselor  to  a  man  of  an  im- 
paired intelligence.  My  lord's  mind  throughout  this  inter- 
val dwelled  almost  wholly  in  the  Wilderness,  following  that 
party  with  whose  deeds  he  had  so  much  concern.  He  con- 
tinually conjured  up  their  camps  and  progresses,  the  fashion 
of  the  country,  the  perpetration  in  a  thousand  different 
manners  of  the  same  horrid  fact,  and  that  consequent  spec- 
tacle of  the  Master's  bones  lying  scattered  in  the  wind. 
These  private,  guilty  considerations  I  would  continually 
observe  to  peep  forth  in  the  man's  talk,  like  rabbits  from  a 
hill.  And  it  is  the  less  wonder  if  the  scene  of  his  medita- 
tions began  to  draw  him  bodily. 

It  is  well  known  what  pretext  he  took.  Sir  William  John- 
son had  a  diplomatic  errand  in  these  parts  ;  and  my  lord 
and  I  (from  curiosity,  as  was  given  out)  went  in  his  com- 
pany.    Sir  William  was  well  attended  and  liberally   sup- 


226  l^HE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRA&. 

plied.  Hunters  brought  us  venison,  fish  was  taken  for  us 
daily  in  the  streams,  and  brandy  ran  like  water.  We  pro- 
ceeded by  day  and  encamped  by  night  in  the  military  style  ; 
sentinels  were  set  and  changed  ;  every  man  had  his  nam.ed 
duty  ;  and  Sir  William  was  the  spring  of  all.  There  was 
much  in  this  that  might  at  times  have  entertained  me  ;  but 
for  our  misfortune,  the  weather  was  extremely  harsh,  the 
days  were  in  the  beginning  open,  but  the  nights  frosty  from 
the  first.  A  painful,  keen  wind  blew  most  of  the  time,  so 
that  we  sat  in  the  boat  with  blue  fingers,  and  at  night,  as  we 
scorched  our  faces  at  the  fire,  the  clothes  upon  our  back 
appeared  to  be  of  paper.  A  dreadful  solitude  surrounded 
our  steps  ;  the  land  was  quite  dispeopled,  there  was  no 
smoke  of  fires,  and  save  for  a  single  boat  of  merchants  on 
the  second  day,  we  met  no  travelers.  The  season  was 
indeed  late,  but  this  desertion  of  the  waterways  impressed 
Sir  William  himself  ;  and  I  have  heard  him  more  than  once 
express  a  sense  of  intimidation.  "I  have  come  too  late,  I 
fear  ;  they  must  have  dug  up  the  hatchet  ";  he  said  ;  and 
the  future  proved  how  justly  he  had  reasoned. 

I  could  never  depict  the  blackness  of  my  soul  upon  this 
journey.  I  have  none  of  those  minds  that  are  in  love  with 
the  unusual :  to  see  the  winter  coming  and  to  lie  in  the  field 
so  far  from  any  house,  oppressed  me  like  a  nightmare  ;  it 
seemed,  indeed,  a  kind  of  awful  braving  of  God's  power ; 
and  this  thought,  which  I  dare  say  only  writes  me  down  a 
coward,  was  greatly  exaggerated  by  my  private  knowledge 
of  the  errand  we  were  come  upon.  I  was  besides  encum- 
bered by  my  duties  to  Sir  William,  whom  it  fell  upon  me  to 
entertain  ;  for  my  lord  was  quite  sunk  into  a  state  bordering 
on  pervigilium^  watching  the  woods  with  a  rapt  eye,  sleeping 
scarce  at  all,  and  speaking  sometimes  not  twenty  words  in 
a  whole  day.  That  which  he  said  was  still  coherent ;  but 
it  turned  almost  invariably  upon  the  party  for  whom  he  kept 
his  crazy  lookout.     He  would  tell  Sir  William  often,  and 


THE  JO  URNE  Y  IN  THE  WILDERHESS.  « 2  7 

always  as  if  it  were  a  new  communication,  that  he  had  '*a 
brother  somewhere  in  the  woods,"  and  beg  that  the  sen- 
tinels should  be  directed  "  to  inquire  for  him."  "  I  am 
anxious  for  news  of  my  brother,"  he  would  say.  And  some- 
times, when  we  were  under  way,  he  would  fancy  he  spied  a 
canoe  far  off  upon  the  water  or  a  camp  on  the  shore,  and 
exhibit  painful  agitation.  It  was  impossible  but  Sir  William 
should  be  struck  with  these  singularities  ;  and  at  last  he  led 
me  aside  and  hinted  his  uneasiness.  I  touched  my  head 
and  shook  it ;  quite  rejoiced  to  prepare  a  little  testimony 
against  possible  disclosures. 

"  But  in  that  case,"  cries  Sir  William,  "  is  it  wise  to  let 
him  go  at  large  ? " 

"  Those  that  know  him  best,"  said  I,  *'are  persuaded  that 
he  should  be  humored." 

"  Well,  well,"  replied  Sir  William,  "  it  is  none  of  my 
affairs.  But  if  I  had  understood,  you  would  never  have 
been  here." 

Our  advance  into  this  savage  country  had  thus  unevent- 
fully proceeded  for  about  a  week,  when  we  encamped  for  a 
night  at  a  place  where  the  river  ran  among  considerable 
mountains  clothed  in  wood.  The  fires  were  lighted  on  a 
level  space  at  the  water's  edge  ;  and  we  supped  and  lay 
down  to  sleep  in  the  customary  fashion.  It  chanced  the 
night  fell  murderously  cold  ;  the  stringency  of  the  frost 
seized  and  bit  me  through  my  coverings,  so  that  pain  kept 
me  wakeful ;  and  I  was  afoot  again  before  the  peep  of  day, 
crouching  by  the  fires  or  trotting  to  and  fro  at  the  stream's 
edge,  to  combat  the  aching  of  my  limbs.  At  last  dawn 
began  to  break  upon  hoar  woods  and  mountains,  the  sleepers 
rolled  in  their  robes,  and  the  boisterous  river  dashing  among 
spears  of  ice.  I  stood  looking  about  me,  swaddled  in  my 
stiff  coat  of  a  bull's  fur,  and  the  breath  smoking  from  my 
scorched  nostrils,  when,  upon  a  sudden,  a  singular,  eager 
cry  rang  from  the  borders  of  the  wood.      The  sentries 


228  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

answered  it,  the  sleepers  sprang  to  their  feet ;  one  pointed, 
the  rest  followed  his  direction  with  their  eyes,  and  there, 
upon  the  edge  of  the  forest  and  betwixt  two  trees,  we  beheld 
the  figure  of  a  man  reaching  forth  his  hands  like  one  in 
ecstacy.  The  next  moment  he  ran  forward,  fell  on  his 
knees  at  the  side  of  the  camp,  and  burst  in  tears. 

This  was  John  Mountain,  the  trader,  escaped  from  the 
most  horrid  perils  ;  and  his  first  word,  when  he  got  speech, 
was  to  ask  if  we  had  seen  Secundra  Dass. 

"  Seen  what  ? "  cries  Sir  William. 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  we  have  seen  nothing  of  him.     Why  ? " 

"  Nothing ?"  says  Mountain.  ''Then  I  was  right  after 
all."  With  that  he  struck  his  palm  upon  his  brow.  "  But 
what  takes  him  back  ?  "  he  cried.  "  What  takes  the  man 
back  among  dead  bodies  ?  There  is  some  damned  mystery 
here." 

This  was  a  word  which  highly  aroused  our  curiosity,  but 

I  shall  be  more  perspicacious,  if  I  narrate  these  incidents 

in  their  true  order.     Here  follows  a  narrative  which  I  have 

^ompiled  out  of  three  sources,  not  very  consistent  in  all 

^points  : 

,     Firsty  a  Written  statement  by  Mountain,  in  which  every- 
j  thing  criminal  is  cleverly  smuggled  out  of  view ; 
I      Second^  two  conversations  with  Secundra  Dass  ;  and, 

Thirds  many  conversations  with  Mountain  himself,  in 
which  he  was  pleased  to  be  entirely  plain  ;  for  the  truth  is 
he  regarded  me  as  an  .accomplice. 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  TRADER,  MOUNTAIN. 

The  crew  that  went  up  the  river  under  the  joint  com- 
inand  of  Captain  Harris  and  the  Master  numbered  in  all 
nine  persons,  of  whom  (if  I  except  Secundra  Dass)  there 
was  not  one  that  had  not   merited   the   gallows.      From 


THE  JO  URNE  V  IN  THE  WILDERNESS,  2  2  9 

Harris  downward  the  voyagers  were  notorious  in  that 
colony  for  desperate,  bloody-minded  miscreants ;  some 
were  reputed  pirates,  the  most  hawkers  of  rum  ;  all  ranters 
and  drinkers  ;  all  fit  associates,  embarking  together  without 
remorse,  upon  this  treacherous  and  murderous  design.  I 
could  not  hear  there  was  much  discipline  or  any  set  captain 
in  the  gang  ;  but  Harris  and  four  others,  Mountain  himself, 
two  Scotchmen — Pinkerton  and  Hastie — and  a  man  of  the 
name  of  Hicks,  a  drunken  shoemaker,  put  their  heads 
together  and  agreed  upon  the  course.  In  a  material  sense, 
they  were  well  enough  provided  ;  and  the  Master  in  par- 
ticular brought  with  him  a  tent  where  he  might  enjoy  some 
privacy  and  shelter. 

Even  this  small  indulgence  told  against  him  in  the  minds 
of  his  companions.  But  indeed  he  was  in  a  position  so 
entirely  false  (and  even  ridiculous)  that  all  his  habit  of 
command  and  arts  of  pleasing  were  here  thrown  away.  In 
the  eyes  of  all,  except  Secundra  Dass,  he  figured  as  a  com-  / 
mon  gull  and  designated  victim  ;  going  unconsciously  to 
death  ;  yet  he  could  not  but  suppose  himself  the  contriver 
and  the  leader  of  the  expedition  ;  he  could  scarce  help  but 
so  conduct  himself  ;  and  at  the  least  hint  of  authority  or 
condescension,  his  deceivers  would  be  laughing  in  their 
sleeves.  I  was  so  used  to  see  and  to  conceive  him  in  a 
high,  authoritative  attitude,  that  when  I  had  conceived  his 
position  on  this  journey,  I  was  pained  and  could  have 
blushed.  How  soon  he  may  have  entertained  a  first  sur- 
mise, we  cannot  know  ;  but  it  was  long,  and  the  party  had 
advanced  into  the  Wilderness  beyond  the  reach  of  any  help, 
ere  he  was  fully  awakened  to  the  truth. 

It  fell  thus.  Harris  and  some  others  had  drawn  apart 
into  the  woods  for  consultation,  when  they  were  startled  by 
a  rustling  in  the  brush.  They  were  all  accustomed  to  the 
arts  of  Indian  warfare,  and  Mountain  had  not  only  lived 
and  hunted,  but  fought  and  earned  some  reputation,  with 


2S0  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAS, 

the  savages.  He  could  move  in  the  woods  without  noise, 
and  follow  a  trail  like  a  hound  ;  and  upon  the  emergence 
of  this  alert,  he  was  deputed. by  the  rest  to  plunge  into  the 
thicket  for  intelligence.  He  was  soon  convinced  there  was 
a  man  in  his  close  neighborhood,  moving  with  precaution 
but  without  art  among  the  leaves  and  branches  ;  and  com- 
ing shortly  to  a  place  of  advantage,  he  was  able  to  observe 
Secundra  Dass  crawling  briskly  off  with  many  backward 
glances.  At  this  he  knew  not  whether  to  laugh  or  cry  ; 
and  his  accomplices,  when  he  had  returned  and  reported, 
were  in  much  the  same  dubiety.  There  was  now  no  danger 
of  an  Indian  onslaught  ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  since  Se- 
cundra Dass  was  at  the  pains  to  spy  upon  them,  it  was 
highly  probable  he  knew  English,  and  if  he  knew  Eng- 
lish it  was  certain  the  whole  of  their  design  was  in  the 
Master's  knowledge.  There  was  one  singularity  in  the 
position.  If  Secundra  Dass  knew  and  concealed  his  knowl- 
edge of  English,  Harris  was  a  proficient  in  severaF  of  the 
tongues  of  India,  and  as  his  career  in  this  part  of  the  world 
had  been  a  great  deal  worse  than  profligate,  he  had  not 
thought  proper  to  remark  upon  the  circumstance.  Each 
side  had  thus  a  spy-hole  on  the  counsels  of  the  other.  The 
plotters,  so  soon  as  this  advantage  was  explained,  returned 
to  camp  ;  Harris,  hearing  the  Hindustani  was  once  more 
closeted  with  his  master,  crept  to  the  side  of  the  tent  ;  and 
the  rest,  sitting  about  the  fire  with  their  tobacco,  awaited 
his  report  with  impatience.  When  he  came  at  last,  his  face 
was  very  black.  He  had  overheard  enough  to  confirm  the 
worst  of  his  suspicions.  Secundra  Dass  was  a  good  English 
scholar ;  he  had  been  some  days  creeping  and  listening,  the 
Master  was  now  fully  informed  of  the  conspiracy,  and  the 
pair  proposed  on  the  morrow  to  fall  out  of  line  at  a  carrying 
place  and  plunge  at  a  venture  in  the  woods ;  preferring 
the  full  risk  of  famine,  savage  beasts,  and  savage  men  to 
their  position  in  the  ipidst  of  traitors. 


THE  JOURNE  V  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  231 

What  then,  was  to  be  done  ?  Some  were  for  killing  thev 
Master  on  the  spot  ;  but  Harris  assured  them  that  would  i 
be  a  crime  without  profit,  since  the  secret  of  the  treasure'' 
must  die  along  with  him  that  buried  it.  Others  were  for 
desisting  at  once  from  the  whole  enterprise  and  making  for 
New  York  ;  but  the  appetizing  name  of  treasure,  and  the 
thought  of  the  long  way  they  had  already  traveled,  dis- 
suaded the  majority.  I  imagine  they  were  dull  fellows  for 
the  most  part.  Harris,  indeed,  had  some  acquirements, 
Mountain  was  no  fool,  Hastie  was  an  educated  man  ;  but 
even  these  had  manifestly  failed  in  life,  and  the  rest  were 
the  dregs  of  colonial  rascality.  The  conclusion  they  reached, 
at  least,  was  more  the  offspring  of  greed  and  hope,  than  reason 
It  was  to  temporize,  to  be  wary  and  watch  the  Master,  to  be 
silent  and  supply  no  further  ailment  to  his  suspicions,  and 
to  depend  entirely  (as  well  as  I  make  out)  on  the  chance 
that  their  victim  was  as  greedy,  hopeful,  and  irrational  as 
themselves,  and  might,  after  all,  betray  his  life  and  treasure. 

Twice,  in  the  course  of  the  next  day,  Secundra  and  the 
Master  must  have  appeared  to  themselves  to  have  escaped  ; 
and  twice  they  were  circumvented.  The  Master,  save  that 
the  second  time  he  grew  a  little  pale,  displayed  no  sign  of 
disappointment,  apologized  for  the  stupidity  with  which  he 
had  fallen  aside,  thanked  his  recapturers  as  for  a  service, 
and  rejoined  the  caravan  with  all  his  usual  gallantry  and 
cheerfulness  of  mien  and  bearing.  But  it  is  certain  he  had 
smelled  a  rat  ;  for  from  thenceforth  he  and  Secundra  spoke 
only  in  each  other's  ear,  and  Harris  listened  and  shivered 
by  the  tent  in  vain.  The  same  night  it  was  announced  they 
were  to  leave  the  boats  and  proceed  by  foot :  a  circumstance 
which  (as  it  put  an  end  to  the  confusion  of  the  portages) 
greatly  lessened  the  chances  of  escape. 

And  now  there  began  between  the  two  sides  a  silent  con- 
test, for  life  on  the  one  hand,  for  riches  on  the  other.  They 
were  now  near  that  quarter  of  the  desert  in  which  the 


232  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

Master  himself  must  begin  to  play  the  part  of  guide  ;  and 
using  this  for  a  pretext  of  prosecution,  Harris  and  his  men 
sat  with  him  every  night  about  the  fire  and  labored  to  en- 
trap him  into  some  admission.  If  he  let  slip  his  secret,  he 
knew  well  it  was  the  warrant  for  his  death  ;  on  the  other 
hand,  he  durst  not  refuse  their  questions,  and  must  appear 
to  help  them  to  the  best  of  his  capacity,  or  he  practically 
published  his  mistrust.  And  yet  Mountain  assures  me  the 
man's  brow  was  never  ruffled.  He  sat  in  the  midst  of  these 
y  jackals,  his  life  depending  by  a  thread,  like  seme  easy,  witty 
householder  at  home  by  his  own  fire  ;  an  answer  he  had 
for  everything — as  often  as  not,  a  jesting  answer  ;  avoided 
threats,  evaded  insults  ;  talked,  laughed,  and  listened  with 
an  open  countenance  ;  and,  in  short,  conducted  himself  in 
such  a  manner  as  must  have  disarmed  suspicion,  and  went 
near  to  stagger  knowledge.  Indeed  Mountain  confessed 
to  me  they  would  soon  have  disbelieved  the  captain's  story, 
and  supposed  their  designated  victini  still  quite  innocent  of 
their  designs  ;  but  for  tfie  fact  that  he  continued  (however 
ingeniously)  to  give  the  slip  to  questions,  and  the  yet  stronger 
confirmation  of  his  repeated  efforts  to  escape.  The  last  of 
these,  which  brought  things  to  a  head,  I  am  now  to  relate. 
And  first  I  should  say  that  by  this  time  the  temper  of  Harris's 
companions  was  utterly  worn  out ;  civility  was  scarce  pre- 
tended ;  and  for  one  very  significant  circumstance,  the 
Master  and  Secundra  had  been  (on  some  pretext)  deprived 
of  weapons.  On  their  side,  however,  the  threatened  pair 
kept  up  the  parade  of  friendship  handsomely  ;  Secundra 
was  all  bows,  the  Master  all  smiles  ;  on  the  last  night  of 
the  truce  he  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  sing  for  the  diversion 
of  the  company.  It  was  observed  that  he  had  also  eaten 
with  unusual  heartiness,  and  drank  deep  ;  doubtless  from 
design. 

At  least,  about  three  in  the  morning,  he  came  out  of  the 
tent  into  the  open  air,  audibly  mourning  and  complaining, 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS,  233 

with  all  the  manner  of  a  sufferer  from  surfeit.     For  some 
while,  Secundra  publicly  attended  on  his  patron,  who  at  last 
became  more  easy,  and  fell  asleep  on  the  frosty  ground 
behind  the  tent :  the  Indian  returning  within.     Some  time 
after,  the  sentry  was  changed  ;  had  the  Master  pointed  out 
to  him,  where  he  lay  in  what  is  called  a  robe  of  buffalo  ; 
and  thenceforth  kept  an  eye  upon  him  (he  declared)  with- 
out remission.     With  the  first  of  the  dawn,  a  draught  of 
wind  came  suddenly  and  blew  open  one  side  the  corner  of 
the  robe  ;  and  with  the  same  puff,  the  Master's  hat  whirled 
in  the  air  and  fell  some  yards  away.     The  sentry,  thinking 
it  remarkable  the  sleeper  should  not   awaken,  thereupon 
drew  near  ;  and   the  next   moment,  with  a   great   shout, 
informed  the  camp  their  prisoner  was  escaped.     He  had 
left  behind  his  Indian,  who  (in  the  first  vivacity  of  the  sur-v 
prise)  came  near  to  pay  the  forfeit  of  his  life,  and  was,  in   . 
fact,  inhumanly  mishandled ;  but  Secundra,  in  the  midst  of  * 
threats  and  cruelties,  stuck  to  it  with  extraordinary  loyalty  j 
that  he  was  quite  ignorant  of  his  master's  plans,  which  * 
might  indeed  be  true,  and  of  the  manner  of  his  escape,'-' 
which  was  demonstrably  false.     Nothing  was  therefore  left 
to  the  conspirators  but  to  rely  entirely  on  the  skill  of  Moun-  . 
tain.     The  night  had  been  frosty,  the  ground  quite  hard  ; 
and  the  sun  was  no  sooner  up  than  a  strong  thaw  set  in.     It 
was  Mountain's  boast  that  few  men  could  have  followed 
that  trail,  and  still  fewer  (even  of  the  native  Indians)  found 
it.     The  Master  had  thus  a  long  start  before  his  pursuers 
had  the  scent,  and  he  must  have  traveled  with  surprising 
energy  for  a  pedestrian  so  unused,  since  it  was  near  noon 
before  Mountain  had  a  view  of  him.     At  this  conjuncture 
the  trader  was  alone,  all  his  companions  following  at  his 
own  request,  several  hundred  yards  in  the  rear  ;  he  knew 
the  Master  was  unarmed  ;  his  heart  was  besides  heated  with 
the  exercise  and  lust  of  hunting  ;  and  seeing  the  quarry  so 
close,  so  defenseless,  and  seemingly  so  fatigued,  he  vain- 


234  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

gloriously  determined  to  effect  the  capture  with  his  single 
hand.  A  step  or  two  further  brought  him  to  one  margin  of 
a  little  clearing  ;  on  the  other,  with  his  arms  folded  and  his 
back  to  a  huge  stone,  the  Master  sat.  It  is  possible  Moun- 
tain may  have  made  a  rustle,  it  is  certain,  at  least,  the  Mas- 
ter raised  his  head  and  gazed  directly  at  that  quarter  of  the 
thicket  where  his  hunter  lay.  "  I  could  not  be  sure  he  saw 
me,"  Mountain  said  ;  "  he  just  looked  my  way  like  a  man 
with  his  mind  made  up,  and  all  the  courage  ran  out  of  me 
like  rum  out  of  a  bottle."  And  presently,  when  the  Master 
looked  away  again,  and  appeared  to  resume  those  medita- 
tions in  which  he  had  sat  immersed  before  the  trader's 
coming,  Mountain  slunk  stealthily  back  and  returned  to 
seek  the  help  of  his  companions. 

And  now  began  the  chapter  of  surprises,  for  the  scout 

had  scarce  informed  the  others  of  his  discovery,  and  they 

were  yet   preparing   their  weapons  for   a   rush   upon  the 

.  fugitive,  when  the  man  himself  appeared   in   their  midst, 

"^  walking   openly   and   quietly,   with   his   hands  behind  his 

back. 

'*  Ah,  men  !  "  says  he,  on  his  beholding  them.  "  Here 
^Vis  a  fortunate  encounter.     Let  us  get  back  to  camp." 

Mountain  had  not  mentioned  his  own  weakness  or  the 
Master's  disconcerting  gaze  upon  the  thicket,  so  that  (with 
all  the  rest)  his  return  appeared  spontaneous.  For  all  that, 
a  hubbub  arose  ;  oaths  flew,  fists  were  shaken,  and  guns 
pointed. 

"  Let  us  get  back  to  camp,"  said  the  Master.  "  I  have 
an  explanation  to  make,  but  it  must  be  laid  before  you  all. 
And  in  the  mean  while  I  would  put  up  these  weapons,  one 
of  which  might  very  easily  go  off  and  blow  away  your  hopes 
of  treasure.  I  would  not  kill,"  says  he,  smiling,  "  the  goose 
with  the  golden  eggs." 

The  charm  of  his  superiority  once  more  triumphed  ;  and 
the  party,  in  no  particular  order,  set  off  on  their  return. 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  2^^^ 

By  the  way,  he  found  occasion  to  get  a  word  or  two  apart 
with  Mountain. 

"  You  are  a  clever  fellow  and  a  bold,"  says  he,  "  but  I  am 
not  so  sure  that  you  are  doing  yourself  justice.  I  would 
have  you  to  consider  whether  you  would  not  do  better,  ay, 
and  safer,  to  serve  me  instead  of  serving  so  commonplace  a 
rascal  as  Mr.  Harris.  Consider  of  it,"  he  concluded,  deal- 
ing the  man  a  gentle  tap  upon  the  shoulder,  "  and  don't  be 
in  haste.  Dead  or  alive,  you  will  find  me  an  ill  man  to 
quarrel  with." 

When  they  were  come  back  to  the  camp,  where  Harris 
and  Pinkerton  stood  guard  over  Secundra,  these  two  ran 
upon  the  Master  like  viragoes,  and  were  amazed  out  of 
measure  when  they  were  bidden  by  their  comrades  *  to 
"  stand  back  and  hear  what  the  gentleman  had  to  say." 
The  Master  had  not  flinched  before  their  onslaught ;  nor, 
at  this  proof  of  the  ground  he  had  gained,  did  he  betray  the 
least  sufficiency. 

"  Do  not  let  us  be  in  haste,"  says  he.  *'  Meat  first  and 
public  speaking  after." 

With  that  they  made  a  hasty  meal  :  and  as  soon  as  it  was 
done,  the  Master,  leaning  on  one  elbow,  began  his  speech. 
He  spoke  long,  addressing  himself  to  each  except  Harris, 
finding  for  each  (with  the  same  exception)  some  particular 
flattery.  He  called  them  "  bold,  honest  blades,"  declared 
he  had  never  seen  a  more  jovial  company,  work  better  done, 
or  pains  more  merrily  supported.  "  Well,  then,"  says  he, 
"  some  one  asks  me,  Why  the  devil  I  ran  away  ?  But  that 
is  scarce  worth  answer,  for  I  think  you  all  know  pretty  well. 
But  you  know  only  pretty  well  :  that  is  a  point  I  shall  arrive 
at  presently,  and  be  you  ready  to  remark  it  when  it  comes. 
There  is  a  traitor  here  :  a  double  traitor  :  I  will  give  you 
his  riame  before  I  am  done  ;  and  let  that  suffice  for  now. 
But  here  comes  some  other  gentleman  and  asks  me,  *  Why, 
in  the  devil  I  came  back  ? '    Well,  before  I  answer  that 


236  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

question,  I  have  one  to  put  to  you.  It  w^s  this  cur  here, 
this  Harris,  that  speaks  Hindustani  ?"  cries  he,  rising  on 
one  knee  and  pointing  fair  at  the  man's  face,  with  a  gesture 
indescribably  menacing  ;  and  when  he  had  been  answered 
in  the  affirmative, "  Ah  !  "  says  he,  "  then  are  all  my  sus- 
picions verified,  and  I  did  rightly  to  come  back.  Now,  men, 
hear  the  truth  for  the  first  time."  Thereupon  he  launched 
forth  in  a  long  story,  told  with  extraordinary  skill,  how  he 
had  all  along  suspected  Harris,  how  he  had  found  the  con- 
firmation of  his  fears,  and  how  Harris  must  have  misrepre- 
sented what  passed  between  Secundra  and  himself.  At  this 
point  he  made  a  bold  stroke  with  excellent  effect.  "  I  sup- 
pose," says  he,  "  you  think  you  are  going  shares  with  Harris, 
I  suppose  you  think  ycu  will  see  to  that  yourselves  ;  5"ou 
would  naturally  not  think  so  flat  a  rogue  could  cozen  you. 
But  have  a  care  !  These  half-idiots  have  a  sort  of  cunning, 
as  the  skunk  has  its  stench  ;  and  it  may  be  news  to  you  that 
Harris  has  taken  care  of  himself  already.  Yes,  for  him  the 
treasure  is  all  money  in  the  bargain.     You  must  find  it  or 

.go  starve.  But  he  has  been  paid  beforehand  ;  my  brother 
V  paid  him  to  destroy  me  ;  look  at  him,  if  you  doubt — look  at 

jhim  grinning  and  gulping,  a  detected  thief  I  "  Thence, 
having  made  this  happy  impression,  he  explained  how  he 
had  escaped,  and  thought  better  of  it,  and  at  last  concluded 
to  come  back,  lay  the  truth  before  the  company,  and  take 
his  chance  with  them  once  more  :  persuaded  as  he  was, 
they  would  instantly  depose  Harris  and  elect  some  other 
leader.  "  There  is  the  whole  truth,"  said  he  :  "  and  with 
one  exception,  I  put  myself  entirely  in  your  hands.  What 
is  the  exception?  There  he  sits,"  he  cried,  pointing  once 
more  to  Harris  ;  "  a  man  that  has  to  die  !  Weapons  and 
conditions  are  all  one  to  me  ;  put  me  face  to  face  with  him, 
and  if  you  give  me  nothing  but  a  stick,  in  five  minutes  I 
will  show  you  a  sop  of  broken  carrion,  fit  for  dogs  to 
roll  in." 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  237 

It  was  dark  night  when  he  made  an  end  ;  they  had 
listened  in  almost  perfect  silence  ;  but  the  firelight  scarce 
permitted  any  one  to  judge,  from  the  look  of  his  neighbors, 
with  what  result  of  persuasion  or  conviction.  Indeed,  the 
Master  had  set  himself  in  the  brightest  place,  and  kept  his 
face  there,  to  be  the  center  of  men's  eyes  :  doubtless  on  a 
profound  calculation.  Silence  followed  for  a  while,  and 
presently  the  whole  party  became  involved  in  disputation  : 
the  Master  lying  on  his  back,  with  his  hands  knit  under  his 
head  and  one  knee  flung  across  the  other,  like  a  person 
unconcerned  in  the  result.  And  here,  I  dare  say,  his 
bravado  carried  him  too  far  and  prejudiced  his  case.  At 
least,  after  a  cast  or  two  back  and  forward,  opinion  settled 
finally  against  him.  It's  possible  he  hoped  to  repeat  the 
business  of  the  pirate  ship,  and  be  himself,  perhaps,  on 
hard  enough  conditions,  elected  leader  ;  and  things  went 
so  far  that  way,  that  Mountain  actually  threw  out  the 
proposition.  But  the  rock  he  split  upon  was  Hastie.  This 
fellow  was  not  well  liked,  being  sour  and  slow,  with  an  ugly, 
glowering  disposition,  but  he  had  studied  some  time  for  the 
church  at  Edinburgh  College,  before  ill  conduct  had  de- 
stroyed his  prospects,  and  he  now  remembered  and  applied 
what  he  had  learned.  Indeed  he  had  not  proceeded  very 
far,  when  the  Master  rolled  carelessly  upon  one  side,  which 
was  done  (in  Mountain's  opinion)  to  conceal  the  beginnings 
of  despair  upon  his  countenance.  Hastie  dismissed  the 
most  of  what  they  had  heard  as  nothing  to  the  matter  : 
what  they  wanted  was  the  treasure.  All  that  was  said  of 
Harris  might  be  true,  and  they  would  have  to  see  to  that  in 
time.  But  what  had  that  to  do  with  the  treasure  ?  They 
had  heard  a  vast  of  words ;  but  the  truth  was  just  this,  that 
Mr.  Durie  was  damnably  frightened  and  had  several  times 
run  off.  Here  he  was — whether  caught  or  come  back  was 
all  one  to  Hastie  :  the  point  was  to  make  an  end  of  the 
business.     As  for  the  talk  of  deposing  and  electing  captains, 


2sS  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

he  hoped  they  were  all  free  men  and  could  attend  their  own 
affairs.  That  was  dust  flung  in  their  eyes,  and  so  was  the 
proposal  to  fight  Harris.  "  He  shall  fight  no  one  in  this 
camp,  I  can  tell  him  that,"  said  Hastie.  "  We  had  trouble 
enough  to  get  his  arms  away  from  him,  and  we  should  look 
pretty  fools  to  give  them  back  again.  But  if  it's  excitement 
the  gentleman  is  after,  I  can  supply  him  with  more  than 
perhaps  he  cares  about.  For  I  have  no  intention  to  spend 
the  remainder  of  my  life  in  these  mountains  ;  already  I  have 
been  too  long  ;  and  I  propose  that  he  should  immediately 
tell  us  where  that  treasure  is,  or  else  immediately  be  shot. 
And  there,"  says  he,  producing  his  weapon,  **  there  is  the 
pistol  that  I  mean  to  use." 

"  Come,  I  call  you  a  man,"  cries  the  Master,  sitting  up 
and  looking  at  the  speaker  with  an  air  of  admiration. 

"  I  didn't  ask  you  to  call  me  anything,"  returned  Hastie  ; 
"which  is  it  to  be  ?  " 

"  That's  an  idle  question,"  said  the  Master.  "  Needs 
must  when  the  devil  drives.  The  truth  is,  we  are  within 
easy  walk  of  the  place,  and  I  will  show  it  you  to-mor- 
row." 

With  that,  as  if  all  were  quite  settled,  and  settled  exactly 
to  his  mind,  he  walked  off  to  his  tent,  whither  Secundra 
had  preceded  him. 

I  cannot  think  of  these  last  turns  and  wriggles  of  my 
old  enemy  except  with  admiration  ;  scarce  even  pity  is 
mingled  with  the  sentiment,  so  strongly  the  man  supported, 
so  boldly  resisted  his  misfortunes.  Even  at  that  hour, 
when  he  perceived  himself  quite  lost,  when  he  saw  he  had 
but  effected  an  exchange  of  enemies,  and  overthrown 
Harris  to  set  Hastie  up,  no  sign  of  weakness  appeared  in 
his  behavior,  and  he  withdrew  to  his  tent,  already  deter- 
mined (I  must  suppose)  upon  affronting  the  incredible 
hazard  of  this  last  expedient,  with  the  same  easy,  assured, 
genteel  expression  and  demeanor  as  he  might  have  left  a 


THE  JOUR^t^EV  m  THE   WILDERNESS.  239 

theater  withal  to  join  a  supper  of  the  wits.  But  doubtless 
within,  if  we  could  see  there,  his  soul  trembled. 

Early  in  the  night,  word  went  about  the  camp  that  he 
was  sick ;  and  the  first  thing  the  next  morning  he  called 
Hastie  to  his  side,  and  inquired  most  anxiously  if  he  had 
any  skill  in  medicine.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  this  was  a  vanity 
of  that  fallen  divinity  student's,  to  which  he  had  cunningly 
addressed  himself.  Hastie  examined  him  ;  and  being  flat- 
tered, ignorant,  and  highly  suspicious,  knew  not  in  the  least 
whether  the  man  was  sick  or  malingering.  In  this  state, 
he  went  forth  again  to  his  companions  ;  and  (as  the  thing 
which  would  give  himself  most  consequence  either  way) 
announced  that  the  patient  was  in  a  fair  way  to  die. 

"  For  all  that,"  he  added,  with  an  oath,  "  and  if  he  bursts 
by  the  wayside,  he  must  bring  us  this  morning  to  the 
treasure." 

But  there  were  several  in  the  camp  (Mountain  among  the 
number)  whom  this  brutality  revolted.  They  would  have 
seen  the  Master  pistol'd,  or  pistol'd  him  themselves,  without 
the  smallest  sentiment  of  pity ;  but  they  seem  to  have  been 
touched  by  his  gallant  fight  and  unequivocal  defeat  the 
night  before  ;  perhaps,  too,  they  were  even  already  begin- 
ning to  oppose  themselves  to  their  new  leader :  at  least, 
they  now  declared  that  (if  the  man  was  sick)  he  should  have 
a  day's  rest  in  spite  of  Hastie's  teeth. 

The  next  morning  he  was  manifestly  worse,  and  Hastie 
himself  began  to  display  something  of  humane  concern,  so 
easily  does  even  the  pretense  of  doctoring  awaken  sym- 
pathy. The  third,  the  Master  called  Mountain  and  Hastie 
to  the  tent,  announced  himself  to  be  dying,  gave  them  full 
particulars  as  to  the  position  of  the  cache,  and  begged  them 
to  set  out  incontinently  on  the  quest,  so  that  they  might  see 
if  he  deceived  them,  and  (if  they  were  at  first  unsuccessful) 
he  should  be  able  to  correct  their  error. 

But  here  arose  a  difficulty  on  which  he  doubtless  counted. 


240  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

None  of  these  men  would  trust  another,  none  would  con- 
sent to  stay  behind.  On  the  other  hand,  although  the 
Master  seemed  extremely  low,  spoke  scarce  above  a  whisper, 
and  lay  much  of  the  time  insensible,  it  was  still  possible  it 
was  a  fraudulent  sickness  ;  and  if  all  went  treasure-hunting, 
it  might  prove  they  had  gone  upon  a  wild-goose  chase,  and 
return  to  find  their  prisoner  flown.  They  concluded,  there- 
fore, to  hang  idling  about  camp,  alleging  sympathy  to  their 
reason ;  and  certainly,  so  mingled  are  our  dispositions, 
several  were  sincerely  (if  not  very  deeply)  affected  by  the 
natural  peril  of  the  man  whom  they  callously  designed  to 
murder.  In  the  afternoon,  Hastie  was  called  to  the  bed- 
side to  pray  :  the  which  (incredible  as  it  must  appear)  he 
did  with  unction  ;  about  eight  at  night,  the  wailing  of  Se- 
cundra  announced  that  all  was  over  ;  and  before  ten,  the 
Indian,  with  a  link  stuck  in  the  ground,  was  toiling  at  the 
/grave.  Sunrise  of  next  day  beheld  the  Master's  burial,  all 
hands  attending  with  great  decency  of  demeanor  ;  and  the 
body  was  laid  in  the  earth  wrapped  in  a  fur  robe,  with  only 
the  face  uncovered  ;  which  last  was  of  a  waxy  whiteness, 
and  had  the  nostrils  plugged  according  to  some  oriental 
habit  of  Secundra's.  No  sooner  was  the  grave  filled  than 
the  lamentations  of  the  Indian  once  more  struck  concern 
to  every  heart  ;  and  it  appears  this  gang  of  murderers,  so 
far  from  resenting  his  outcries,  although  both  distressful 
and  (in  such  a  country)  perilous  to  their  own  safety,  rough- 
ly but  kindJy  endeavored  to  console  him. 

But  if  human  nature  is  ^even  in  the  worst  of  men  occa- 
sionally kind,  it  is  still,  and  before  all  things,  greedy ;  and 
they  soon  turned  from  the  mourner  to  their  own  concerns. 
The  cache  of  the  treasure  being  hard  by,  although  yet 
unidentified,  it  was  concluded  not  to  break  camp  ;  and  the 
day  passed,  on  the  part  of  the  voyagers,  in  unavailing  ex- 
ploration of  the  woods,  Secundra  the  while  lying  on  his 
master's  grave.     That  night  they  placed  no  sentinel,  but 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  241 

lay  altogether  about  the  fire,  in  the  customary  woodman 
fashion,  the  heads  outward,  like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel. 
Morning  found  them  in  the  same  disposition ;  only  Pinker- 
ton,  who  lay  on  Mountain's  right,  between  him  and  Hastie, 
had  (in  the  hours  of  darkness)  been  secretly  butchered, 
and  there  lay,  still  wrapped  as  to  his  body  in  his  mantle, 
but  offering  above,  that  ungodly  and  horrific  spectacle  of 
the  scalped  head.  The  gang  were  that  morning  as  pale  as  a 
company  of  phantoms,  for  the  pertinacity  of  Indian  war 
(or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  Indian  murder),  was  well 
known  to  all.  But  they  laid  the  chief  blame  on  their 
unsentinel'd  posture  ;  and  fired  with  the  neighborhood  of 
the  treasure,  determined  to  continue  where  they  were. 
Pinkerton  was  buried  hard  by  the  Master  ;  the  survivors 
again  passed  the  day  in  exploration,  and  returned  in  a 
mingled  humor  of  anxiety  and  hope,  being  partly  certain 
they  were  now  close  on  the  discovery  of  what  they  sought, 
and  on  the  other  hand  (with  the  return  of  darkness)  were 
infected  with  the  fear  of  Indians.  Mountain  was  the  first 
sentry;  he  declares  he  neither  slept  nor  yet  sat  down,  but  kept 
his  watch  with  a  perpetual  and  straining  vigilance,  and  it 
was  even  with  unconcern  that  (when  he  saw  by  the  stars 
his  time  was  up)  he  drew  near  the  fire  to  waken  his  suc- 
cessor. This  man  (it  was  Hicks  the  shoemak^)  slept  on 
the  lee  side  of  the  circle,  something  farther  off  in  conse- 
quence than  those  to  windward,  and  in  a  place  darkened  by 
the  blowing  smoke.  Mountain  stooped  and  took  him  by 
the  shoulder ;  his  hand  was  at  once  smeared  by  some  adhe- 
sive wetness  ;  and  (the  wind  at  the  moment  veering)  the 
firelight  shone  upon  the  sleeper  and  showed  him,  like 
Pinkerton,  dead  and  scalped. 

It  was  clear  they. had  fallen  in  the  hands  of  one  of  those 
matchless  Indian  bravos,  that  will  sometimes  follow  a  party 
for  days,  and  in  spite  of  indefatigable  travel  and  unsleep- 
'ing  watch,  continue  to  keep  up  with  their  advance  and  steal 


242  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

a  scalp  at  every  resting-place.  Upon  this  discovery,  the 
treasure-seekers,  already  reduced  to  a  poor  half-dozen,  fell 
into  mere  dismay,  seized  a  few  necessaries,  and  deserting 
the  remainder  of  their  goods,  fled  outright  into  the  forest. 
Their  fire  they  left  still  burning,  and  their  dead  comrade 
unburied.  All  day  they  ceased  not  to  flee,  eating  by  the 
way,  from  hand  to  mouth  ;  and  since  they  feared  to  sleep,, 
continued  to  advance  at  random  even  in  the  hours  of  dark- 
ness. But  the  limit  of  man's  endurance  is  soon  reached  ; 
when  they  rested  at  last,  it  was  to  sleep  profoundly ;  and 
when  they  woke,  it  was  to  find  that  the  enemy  was  still 
upon  their  heels,  and  death  and  mutilation  had  once  more 
lessened  and  deformed  their  company. 

By  this,  they  had  become  light-headed,  they  had  quite 
missed  their  path  in  the  Wilderness,  their  stores  were  al- 
ready running  low.  With  the  further  horrors,  it  is  super- 
fluous that  I  should  swell  this  narrative,  already  too  pro- 
longed. Suflice  it  to  say,  that  when  at  length  a  night 
passed  by  innocuous,  and  they  might  breathe  again  in  the 
hope  that  the  murderer  had  at  last  desisted  from  pursuit, 
Mountain  and  Secundra  were  alone.  The  trader  is  firmly 
persuaded  their  unseen  enemy  was  some  warrior  of  his  own 
acquaintance,  and  that  he  himself  was  spared  by  favor. 
The  mercy  extended  to  Secundra  he  explains  on  the  ground 
that  the  East  Indian  was  thought  to  be  insane  ;  partly  from 
the  fact  that,  through  all  the  horrors  of  the  flight  and  while 
others  was  casting  away  their  very  food  and  weapons,  Se- 
cundra continued  to  stagger  forward  with  a  mattock  on  his 
shoulder  ;  and  partly  because,  in  the  last  days  and  with  a 
great  degree  of  heat  and  fluency,  he  perpetually  spoke  with 
himself  in  his  own  language.  But  he  was  sane  enough 
when  it  came  to  English. 

"  You  think  he  will  be  gone  quite  away  ?  "  he  asked,  upon 
their  blest  awakening  in  safety. 

"  I  pray  God  so,  I  believe  so,  I  dare  to  believe  so,"  Moun- 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  243 

tain  had  replied  almost  with  incoherence,  at  he  described 
the  scene  to  me. 

And  indeed  he  was  so  much  distempered  that  until  he 
met  us,  the  next  morning,  he  could  scarce  be  certain  whether 
he  had  dreamed,  or  whether  it  was  a  fact,  that  Secundra 
had  thereupon  turned  directly  about  and  returned  without 
a  word  upon  their  footprints,  setting  his  face  for  these 
wintry  and  hungry  solitudes,  along  a  path  whose  every 
stage  was  mile-stoned  with  a  mutilated  corpse. 


THE    JOURNEY    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

[Continued), 

Mountain's  story,  as  it  was  laid  before  Sir  William 
Johnson  and  my  lord,  was  shorn,  of  course,  of  all  the  earlier 
particulars,  and  the  expedition  described  to  have  proceeded 
uneventfully,  until  the  Master  sickened.  But  the  latter 
part  was  very  forcibly  related,  the  speaker  visibly  thrilling 
to  his  recollections  ;  and  our  then  situation,  on  the  fringe 
of  the  same  desert,  and  the  private  interests  of  each,  gave 
him  an  audience  prepared  to  share  in  his  emotions.  For 
Mountain's  intelligence  not  only  changed  the  world  for  my 
Lord  Durrisdeer,  but  materially  affected  the  designs  of  Sir 
William  Johnson. 

These  I  find  I  must  lay  more  at  length  before  the  reader. 
Word  had  reached  Albany  of  dubious  import ;  it  had  been 
rumored  some  hostility  was  to  be  put  in  act  ;  and  the 
Indian  diplomatist  had,  thereupon,  sped  into  the  wilderness, 
even  at  the  approach  of  winter,  to  nip  that  mischief  in  the 
bud.  Here,  on  the  borders,  he  learned  that  he  was  come 
too  late  ;  and  a  difficult  choice  was  thus  presented  to  a  man 
(upon  the  whole)  not  any  more  bold  than  prudent.  His 
standing  with  the  painted  braves  may  be  compared  to  that 
of  my  Lord  President  CuUoden  among  the  chiefs  of  our 
own  Highlanders  at  the  'forty-five  ;  that  is  as  much  as  to 
Jsay,  he  was,  to  these  men,  reason's  only  speaking-trumpet, 
and  counsels  of  peace  and  moderation,  if  they  were  to  pre- 
vail at  all,  must  prevail  singly  through  his  influence.  If 
then,  he  should  return,  the  province  must  lie  open  to  all 
the  abominable  tragedies  of  Indian  war — the  houses  blaze, 
the  wayfarer  be  cut  off,  and  the  men  of  the  woods  collect 

244 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  245 

their  usual  disgusting  spoil  of  human  scalps.  On  the  other 
side,  to  go  further  forth,  to  risk  so  small  a  party  deeper  in 
the  desert,  to  carry  words  of  peace  among  warlike  savages 
already  rejoicing  to  return  to  war  :  here  was  an  extremity 
from  which  it  was  easy  to  perceive  his  mind  revolted. 

**  I  have  come  too  late,"  he  said,  more  than  once,  and 
would  fall  into  a  deep  consideration,  his  head  bowed  in  his 
hands,  his  foot  patting  the  ground. 

At  length  he  raised  his  face  and  looked  upon  us,  that  is  to 
say,  upon  my  lord.  Mountain,  and  myself,  sitting  close  round 
a  small  fire,  which  had  been  made  for  privacy  in  one  corner 
of  the  camp. 

"  My  lord,  to  be  quite  frank  with  you,  I  find  myself  in 
two  minds,"  said  he.  "  I  think  it  very  needful  I  should  go 
on,  but  not  at  all  proper  I  should  any  longer  enjoy  the 
pleasure  of  your  company.  We  are  here  still  upon  the 
water  side ;  and  I  think  the  risk  to  southward  no  great 
matter.  Will  not  yourself  and  Mr.  Mackellar  take  a  single 
boat's  crew  and  return  to  Albany  ?  " 

My  lord,  I  should  say,  had  listened  to  Mountain's  narra- 
tive regarding  him  throughout  with  a  painful  intensity  of 
gaze  ;  and  since  the  tale  concluded,  had  sat  as  in  a  dream. 
There  was  something  very  daunting  in  his  look  ;  something 
to  my  eyes  not  rightly  human  ;  the  face,  lean,  and  dark, 
and  aged,  the  mouth  painful,  the  teeth  disclosed  in  a  per- 
petual rictus  ;  the  eyeball  swimming  clear  of  the  lids  upon 
a  field  of  blood-shot  white.  I  could  not  behold  him  myself 
without  a  jarring  irritation,  such  as  (I  believe)  is  too  fre- 
quently the  uppermost  feeling  on  the  sickness  of  those  dear 
to  us.  Others,  I  could  not  but  remark,  were  scarce  able 
to  support  his  neighborhood — Sir  William  eviting  to  be 
near  him.  Mountain  dodging  his  eye,  and,  when  he  met  it, 
blenching  and  halting  in  his  story.  At  this  appeal,  how- 
ever, my  lord  appeared  to  recover  his  command  upon  him- 
self. 


34^  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

"  To  Albany  ?  "  said  he,  with  a  good  voice. 

"  Not  short  of  it,  at  least,"  replied  Sir  William.  "  There 
is  no  safety  nearer  hand." 

"I  would  be  verysweir*to  return,"  says  my  lord.  "I 
am  not  afraid — of  Indians,"  he  added,  with  a  jerk. 

"  I  wish  that  I  could  say  so  much,"  returned  Sir  William, 
smiling  ;  "  although,  if  any  man  durst  say  it,  it  should  be 
myself.  But  you  are  to  keep  in  view  my  responsibility,  and 
that  as  the  voyage  has  now  become  highly  dangerous,  and 
your  business — if  you  ever  had  any,"  says  he,  "  brought 
quite  to  a  conclusion  by  the  distressing  family  intelligence 
you  have  received,  I  should  be  hardly  justified  if  I  even 
suffered  you  to  proceed,  and  run  the  risk  of  some  obloquy 
if  anything  regrettable  should  follow." 

yMy  lord  turned  to  Mountain.  "  What  did  he  pretend  he 
died  of  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  think  I  understand  your  honor,"  said  the  trader, 
pausing  like  a  man  very  much  affected,  in  the  dressing  of 
some  cruel  frost-bites. 

For  a  moment  my  lord  seemed  at  a  full  stop  ;  and  then, 
with  some  irritation,  "  I  ask  you  what  he  died  of.  Surely 
that's  a  plain  question,"  said  he. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mountain.  "  Hastie  even 
never  knew.  He  seemed  to  sicken  natural,  and  just  pass 
away." 

"  There  it  is,  you  see  !  "  concluded  my  lord,  turning  to 
Sir  William. 

"  Your  lordship  is  too  deep  for  me,"  replied  Sir  William. 

"  Why,"  says  my  lord,  "  this  is  a  matter  of  succession  ; 
my  son's  title  may  be  called  in  doubt  ;  and  the  man  being 
supposed  to  be  dead  of  nobody  can  tell  what,  a  great  deal 
of  suspicion  would  be  naturally  roused." 

"  But,  God  damn  me,  the  man's  buried  1  "  cried  Sir 
William. 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  247 

"I  will  never  believe  that,"  returned  my  lord,  painfully 
trembling.  '*  I'll  never  believe  it  !  "  he  cried  again,  and 
jumped  to  his  feet.  "  Did  he  look  dead  ? "  he  asked  of 
Mountain. 

"  Look  dead  ?  "  repeated  the  trader.  "  He  looked  white. 
Why,  what  would  he  be  at  ?  I  tell  you,  I  put  the  sods  upon 
him." 

My  lord  caught  Sir  William  by  the  coat  with  a  hooked 
hand.  "  This  man  has  the  name  of  my  brother,"  says  he, 
"but  it's  well  understood  that  he  was  never  canny." 

"  Canny  ?  "  says  Sir  William.     *'  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  He's  not  of  this  world,"  whispered  my  lord,  *'  neither 
him  nor  the  black  deil  that  serves  him.     I  have  struck  my   » 
sword  throughout  his  vitals,"  he  cried,  ''  I  have  felt  the  hilt^ 
dirl  *  on  his  breastbone,  and  the  hot  blood  spirt  in  my  very 
face,  time  and  again,  time  and  again  !  "  he  repeated,  with 
a  gesture  indescribable.     "  But  he  was  never  dead  for  that," 
said  he,  and  I  sighed  aloud.     "  Why  should  I  think  he  was  y 
dead  now  ?     No,  not  till  I  see  him  rotting,"  says  he. 

Sir  William  looked  across  at  me,  with  a  long  face. 
Mountain  forgot  his  wounds,  staring  and  gaping. 

"  My  lord,"  said  I,  "  I  wish  you  would  collect  your  spirits." 
But  my  throat  was  so  dry,  and  my  own  wits  so  scattered, 
I  could  add  no  more. 

"No,"  says  my  lord,  "it's  not  to  be  supposed  that  he 
would  understand  me.  Mackellar  does,  for  he  kens  all,  and 
has  seen  him  buried  before  now.  This  is  a  very  good  ser- 
vant to  me.  Sir  William,  this  man  Mackellar  ;  he  buried  him 
with  his  own  hands — he  and  my  father — by  the  light  of  two 
siller  candlesticks.  The  other  man  is  a  familiar  spirit  ;  he 
brought  him  from  Coromande).  I  would  have  told  ye  this 
long  syne,  Sir  William,  only  it  was  in  the  family."  These 
last  remarks  he  made  with  a  kind  of  a  melancholy  compos- 
ure, and  his  time  of  aberration  seemed  to  pass  away.     "  You 

*  Ring. 


248  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

can  ask  yourself  what  it  all  means,"  he  proceeded.  "  My 
brother  falls  sick,  and  dies,  and  is  buried,  as  so  they  say  ; 
and  all  seems  very  plain.  But  why  did  the  familiar  go 
back  ?  I  think  ye  must  see  for  yourself  it's  a  point  that 
wants  some  clearing." 

*'  I  will  be  at  your  service,  my  lord,  in  half  a  minute," 
said  Sir  William,  rising.  "  Mr.  Mackellar,  two  words  with 
you,"  and  he  led  me  without  the  camp,  the  frost  crunching 
in  our  steps,  the  trees  standing  at  our  elbow  hoar  with  frost, 
even  as  on  that  night  in  the  Long  Shrubbery.  *'  Of  course, 
this  is  midsummer  madness  ? "  said  Sir  William,  so  soon 
as  we  were  gotten  out  of  hearing. 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  I.  "  The  man  is  mad.  I  think 
that  manifest." 

"  Shall  I  seize  and  bind  him  ? "  asked  Sir  William.  "  I 
will  upon  your  authority.  If  these  are  all  ravings,  that 
should  certainly  be  done." 

I  looked  down  upon  the  ground,  back  at  the  camp  with  its 
bright  fires  and  the  folk  watching  us,  and  about  me  on  the 
woods  and  mountains  ;  there  was  just  the  one  way  that  I 
could  not  look,  and  that  was  in  Sir  William's  face. 

"  Sir  William,"  said  I,  at  last,  "  I  think  my  lord  not  sane, 
and  have  long  thought  him  so.  But  there  are  degrees  in 
madness  ;  and  whether  he  should  be  brought  under  re- 
straint— Sir  William,  I  am  no  fit  judge,"  I  concluded. 

"  I  will  be  the  judge,"  said  he.  "  I  ask  for  facts.  Was 
there,  in  all  that  jargon,  any  word  of  truth  or  sanity  "i  Do 
you  hesitate  ? "  he  asked.  "  Am  I  to  understand  you  have 
buried  this  gentleman  before  ?  " 

"  Not  buried,"  said  I  ;  and  then,  taking  up  courage  at  last, 
"  Sir  William,"  said  I,  "  unless  I  were  to  tell  you  a  long  story, 
which  much  concerns  a  noble  family  (and  myself  not  in  the 
least),  it  would  be  impossible  to  make  this  matter  clear  to 
you.  Say  the  word,  and  I  will  do  it,  right  or  wrong.  And, 
at  any  rate,  I  will  say  so  much,  that  my  lord  is  not  so  crazy 


THE  JO  URNE  V  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  249 

as  he  seems.     This  is  a  strange  matter,  into  the  tail  of  which 
you  are  unhappily  drifted." 

''  I  desire  none  of  your  secrets,"  replied  Sir  William  ; 
"  but  I  will  be  plain,  at  the  risk  of  incivility,  and  confess 
that  I  take  little  pleasure  in  my  present  company." 

"  I  would  be  the  last  to  blame  you,"  said  I,  "  for  that." 

"  I  have  not  asked  either  for  your  censure  or  your  praise, 
sir,"  returned  Sir  William.  "  I  desire  simply  to  be  quit  of 
you  ;  and  to  that  effect,  I  put  a  boat  and  a  complement 
of  men  at  your  disposal." 

"  This  is  fairly  offered,"  said  I,  after  reflection.  **  But 
you  must  suffer  me  to  say  a  word  upon  the  other  side.  We 
have  a  natural  curiosity  to  learn  the  truth  of  this  affair ; 
I  have  some  of  it  myself  ;  my  lord  (it  is  very  plain)  has 
but  too  much.  The  matter  of  the  Indian's  return  is 
enigmatical." 

**  I  think  so  myself,"  Sir  William  interrupted,  "  and  I 
propose  (since  I  go  in  that  direction)  to  probe  it  to  the 
bottom.  Whether  or  not  the  man  has  gone  like  a  dog  to 
die  upon  his  master's  grave,  his  life,  at  least,  is  in  great 
danger,  and  I  propose,  if  I  can,  to  save  it.  There  is 
nothing  against  his  character  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  Sir  William,"  I  replied. 

"  And  the  other  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  have  heard  my  lord,  of 
course  ;  but,  from  the  circumstances  of  his  secant's  loyalty, 
I  must  suppose  he  had  some  noble  qualities." 

"You  must  not  ask  me  that  ! "  I  cried.     "  Hell  may  have    / 
noble  flames.     I   have  known   him  a  score  of  years,  and 
always   hated,  and  always  admired,   and  always  slavishly 
feared  him." 

"  I  appear  to  intrude  again  upon  your  secrets,"  said  Sir 
William,  "  believe  me,  inadvertently.  Enough  that  I  will 
see  the  grave,  and  (if  possible)  rescue  the  Indian.  Upon 
these  terms,  can  you  persuade  your  master  to  return  to 
•Albany  ? " 


250  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"  Sir  William,"  said  I,  "  I  will  tell  you  how  it  is.  You  do 
not  see  my  lord  to  advantage  ;  it  will  seem  even  strange  to 
you  that  I  should  love  him  ;  but  I  do,  and  I  am  not  alone. 
If  he  goes  back  to  Albany,  it  must  be  by  force,  and  it  will 
be  the  death-warrant  of  his  reason,  and  perhaps  his  life. 
That  is  my  sincere  belief  ;  but  I  am  in  your  hands,  and 
ready  to  obey,  if  you  will  assume  so  much  responsibility  as 
to  command." 

"  I  will  have  no  shred  of  responsibility  ;  it  is  my  single 
endeavor  to  avoid  the  same,"  cried  Sir  William.  *'You 
insist  upon  following  this  journey  up  ;  and  be  it  so  !  I 
wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  matter." 

With  which  word,  he  turned  upon  his  heel  and  gave  the 
order  to  break  camp  ;  and  my  lord,  who  had  been  hovering 
near  by,  came  instantly  to  my  side. 

"Which  is  it  to  be  ?  "  said  he. 

"You  are  to  have  your  way,"  I  answered.  "You  shall 
see  the  grave." 

The  situation  of  the  Master's  grave  Was,  between  guides, 
easily  described  ;  it  lay,  indeed,  beside  a  chief  landmark  of 
the  wilderness,  a  certain  range  of  peaks,  conspicuous  by 
their  design  and  altitude,  and  the  source  of  many  brawling 
tributaries  to  that  inland  sea,  Lake  Champlain.  It  was 
therefore  possible  to  strike  for  it  direct,  instead  of  following 
back  the  blood-stained  trail  of  the  fugitives,  and  to  cover, 
in  some  sixteen  hours  of  march,  a  distance  which  their  per- 
turbed wanderings  had  extended  over  more  than  sixty. 
Our  boats  we  left  under  a  guard  upon  the  river  ;  it  was, 
indeed,  probable  we  should  return  to  find  them  frozen  fast ; 
and  the  small  equipment  with  which  we  set  forth  upon  the 
expedition  included  not  only  an  infinity  of  furs  to  protect 
us  from  the  cold,  but  an  arsenal  of  snow-shoes  to  render 
travel  possible,  when  the  inevitable  snow  should  fall.  Con- 
siderable alarm  was  manifested  at  our  departure  ;  the  march 


THE  JOURNE  V  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  25 1 

was  conducted  with  soldierly  precaution,  the  camp  at  night 
sedulously  chosen  and  patrolled  ;  and  it  was  a  consideration 
of  this  sort  that  arrested  us,  the  second  day,  within  not 
many  hundred  yards  of  our  destination — the  night  being 
already  imminent,  the  spot  in  which  we  stood  well  qualified 
to  be  a  strong  camp  for  a  party  of  our  numbers  ;  and  Sir 
William,  therefore,  on  a  sudden  thought,  arresting  our 
advance. 

Before  us  was  the  high  range  of  mountains  toward  which 
we  had  been  all  day  deviously  drawing  near.  From  the 
first  light  of  the  dawn,  their  silver  peaks  had  been  the  goal 
of  our  advance  across  a  tumbled  lowland  forest,  thrid  with 
rough  streams,  and  strewn  with  monstrous  bowlders ;  the 
peaks  (as  I  say)  silver,  for  already  at  the  higher  altitudes 
the  snow  fell  nightly ;  but  the  woods  and  the  low  ground 
only  breathed  upon  with  frost.  All  day  heaven  had  been 
charged  with  ugly  vapors,  in  the  which  the  sun  swam  and 
glimmered  like  a  shilling  piece ;  all  day  the  wind  blew  on 
our  left  cheek,  barbarous  cold,  but  very  pure  to  breathe. 
With  the  end  of  the  afternoon,  however,  the  wind  fell ;  the 
clouds,  being  no  longer  reinforced,  were  scattered  or  drunk 
up  ;  the  sun  set  behind  us  with  some  wintery  splendor,  and 
the  white  brow  of  the  mountains  shared  its  dying  glow. 

It  was  dark  ere  we  had  supper ;  we  ate  in  silence,  and 
the  meal  was  scarce  despatched  before  my  lord  slunk  from 
the  fireside  to  the  margin  of  the  camp  ;  whither  I  made 
haste  to  follow  him.  The  camp  was  on  high  ground,  over- 
looking a  frozen  lake,  perhaps  a  mile  in  its  longest  measure- 
ment ;  all  about  us,  the  forest  lay  in  heights  and  hollows ; 
above  rose  the  white  mountains  ;  and  higher  yet,  the  moon 
rode  in  a  fair  sky.  There  was  no  breath  of  air ;  nowhere  a 
twig  creaked  ;  and  the  sounds  of  our  own  camp  were  hushed 
and  swallowed  up  in  the  surrounding  stillness.  Now  that 
the  sun  and  the  wind  were  both  gone  down,  it  appeared  al- 
most warm,  like  a  night  of  July :  a  singular  illusion  of  the 


252  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

sense,  when  earth,  air,  and  water  were  strained  to  bursting 
with  the  extremity  of  frost. 

My  lord  (or  what  I  still  continued  to  call  by  his  loved 
name)  stood  with  his  elbow  in  one  hand,  and  his  chin  sunk 
in  the  other,  gazing  before  him  on  the  surface  of  the  wood. 
My  eyes  followed  his,  and  rested  almost  pleasantly  upon 
the  frosted  contexture  of  the  pines,  rising  in  moonlit 
hillocks,  or  sinking  in  the  shadow  of  small  glens.  Hard  by, 
I  told  myself,  was  the  grave  of  our  enemy,  now  gone  where 
the  wicked  cease  "rom  troubling,  the  earth  heaped  forever 
on  his  once  so  active  limbs.  I  could  not  but  think  of  him  as 
somehow  fortunate,  to  be  thus  done  with  man's  anxiety  and 
weariness,  the  daily  expense  of  spirit,  and  that  daily  river 
of  circumstance  to  be  swum  through,  at  any  hazard,  under 
the  penalty  of  shame  or  death.  I  could  not  but  think  how 
good  was  the  end  of  that  long  travel ;  and  with  that,  my 
mind  swung  at  a  tangent  to  my  lord.  For  was  not  my  lord 
dead  also  ?  a  maimed  soldier,  looking  vainly  for  discharge, 
lingering  derided  in  the  line  of  battle  ?  A  kind  man,  I 
remembered  him ;  wise,  with  a  decent  pride,  a  son  perhaps 
too  dutiful,  a  husband  onl3^too  loving,  one  that  could  suffer 
and  be  silent,  one  whose, hand  I  loved  to  press.  Of  a  sud- 
den, pity  caught  in  my  windpipe  with  a  sob  ;  I  could  have 
wept  aloud  to  remember  and  behold  him  ;  and  standing 
thus  by  his  elbow,  under  the  broad  m.oon,  I  prayed  fervently 
either  that  he  should  be  released,  or  I  strengthened  to  per- 
sist in  my  affection. 

"  O  God,"  said  I,  "  this  was  the  best  man  to  me  and  to 
himself,  and  nov/  I  shrink  from  him.  He  did  no  wrong,  or 
not  till  he  was  broke  with  sorrows  ;  these  are  but  his  honor- 
able  wounds  that  we  begin  to  shrink  from.  Oh,  cover  them 
up,  oh,  take  him  away,  before  we  hate  him  ! " 

I  was  still  so  engaged  in  my  own  bosom,  when  a  sound 
broke  suddenly  upon  the  night.  It  was  neither  very  loud, 
nor  very  near  ;  yet,  bursting  as  it  did  from  so  profound  and 


THE  JO  URNE  V  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  253 

SO  prolonged  a  silence,  it  startled  the  camp  like  an  alarm  of 
trumpets.  Ere  I  had  taken  breath,  Sir  William  was  beside 
me,  the  main  part  of  the  voyagers  clustered  at  his  back, 
intently  giving  ear.  Methought,  as  I  glanced  at  them 
across  my  shoulder,  there  was  a  whiteness,  other  than  moon- 
light, on  their  cheeks  ;  and  the  rays  of  the  moon  reflected 
with  a  sparkle  on  the  eyes  of  some,  and  the  shadows  lying 
black  under  the  brows  of  others  (according  as  they  raised  or 
bowed  the  head  to  listen)  gave  to  the  group  a  strange  air  of 
animation  and  anxiety.  My  lord  was  to  the  front,  crouch- 
ing a  little  forth,  his  hand  raised  as  for  silence  :  a  man 
turned  to  stone.  And  still  the  sounds  continued,  breath- 
lessly renewed,  with  a  preci-pitate  rhythm. 

Suddenly  Mountain  spoke  in  a  loud,  broken  whisper,  as 
of  a  man  relieved.  "  I  have  it  now,"  he  said  ;  and,  as  we 
all  turned  to  hear  him,  "  the  Indian  must  have  known  the 
cache," "he  added.  "That  is  he — he  is  digging  out  the 
treasure." 

"  Why,  to  be  sure  !  "  exclaimed  Sir  William.  *'  We  were 
geese  not  to  have  supposed  so  much." 

"  The  only  thing  is,"  Mountain  resumed,  "the  sound  is 
very  close  to  our  old  camp.  And,  again,  I  do  not  see  how 
he  is  there  before  us,  unless  the  man  had  wings ! " 

"  Greed  and  fear  are  wings,"  remarked  Sir  William.  "  But 
this  rogue  has  given  us  an  alert,  and  I  have  a  notion  to  re- 
turn the  compliment.  What  say  you,  gentlemen,  shall  we 
have  a  moonlight  hunt?  " 

It  was  so  agreed ;  dispositions  were  made  to  surround 
Secundra  at  his  task  ;  some  of  Sir  William's  Indians  hast- 
ened in  advance ;  and  a  strong  guard  being  left  at  our 
headquarters,  we  set  forth  along  the  uneven  bottom  of  the 
forest ;  frost  crackling,  ice  sometimes  loudly  splitting  under 
foot ;  and  overhead  the  blackness  of  pine-woods,  and  the 
broken  brightness  of  the  moon.  Our  way  led  down  into  a 
hollow  of  the  land  ;  and  as  we  descended,  the  sounds  dim- 


554  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

inished  and  had  almost  died  away.  Upon  the  other  slope 
it  was  more  open,  only  dotted  with  a  few  pines,  and  several 
vast  and  scattered  rocks  that  made  inky  shadows  in  the 
moonlight.  Here  the  sounds  began  to  reach  us  more  dis- 
tinctly ;  we  could  now  perceive  the  ring  of  iron,  and  more 
exactly  estimate  the  furious  degree  of  haste  with  which  the 
digger  plied  his  instrument.  As  we  neared  the  top  of  the 
ascent,  a  bird  or  two  winged  aloft  and  hovered  darkly  in  the 
moonlight ;  and  the  next  moment,  we  were  gazing  through 
a  fringe  of  trees  upon  a  singular  picture. 

A  narrow  plateau,  overlooked  by  the  white  mountains 
and  encompassed  nearer  hand  by  woods,  lay  bare  to  the 
strong  radiance  of  the  moon.  Rough  goods,  such  as  make 
the  wealth  of  foresters,  were  sprinkled  here  and  there  upon 
the  ground  in  meaningless  disarray.  About  the  midst,  a 
tent  stood,  silvered  with  frost ;  the  door  open,  gaping  on 
the  blajpk  interior.  At  the  one  end  of  this  small  stage  lay 
what  seemed  the  tattered  remnants  of  a  man.  Without 
doubt  we  had  arrived  upon  the  scene  of  Harris's  encamp, 
ment  ;  there  were  the  goods  scattered  in  the  panic  of  flight ; 
it  was  in  yon  tent  the  Master  breathed  his  last ;  and  the 
frozen  carrion  that  lay  before  us  was  the  body  of  the  drunken 
shoemaker.  It  was  always  moving  to  come  upon  the 
theater  of  any  tragic  incident  ;  to  come  upon  it  after  so 
many  days,  and  to  find  it  (in  the  seclusion  of  a  desert)  still 
unchanged,  must  have  impressed  the  mind  of  the  most  care- 
less. And  yet  it  was  not  that  which  struck  us  into  pillars 
of  stone  ;  but  the  sight  (which  yet  we  had  been  half  ex- 
pecting) of  Secundra,  ankle  deep  in  the  grave  of  his  late 
master.  He  had  cast  the  main  part  of  his  raiment  by,  yet 
his  frail  arms  and  shoulders  glistered  in  the  moonlight  with 
a  copious  sweat  ;  his  face  was  contracted  with  anxiety  and 
expectation  ;  his  blows  resounded  on  the  grave,  as  thick  as 
sobs  ;  and  behind  him,  strangely  deformed  and  ink-black 
upon  the  frosty  ground,  the  creature's  shadow  repeated  and 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  255 

parodied  his  swift  gesticulations.  Some  night  birds  arose 
from  the  boughs  upon  our  coming,  and  then  settled  back  ; 
but  Secundra,  absorbed  in  his  toil,  heard  or  heeded  not 
at  all. 

I  heard  Mountain  whisper  to  Sir  William  :  *'  Good  God, 
it's  the  grave  !  He's  digging  him  up  !  "  It  was  what  we 
had  all  guessed,  and  yet  to  hear  it  put  in  language  thrilled 
me.     Sir  William  violently  started, 

"  You  damned  sacrilegious  hound  !  "  he  cried.  **  What's 
this  ? " 

Secundra  leaped  in  the  air,  a  little  breathless  cry  escaped 
him,  the  tool  flew  from  his  grasp,  and  he  stood  one  instant 
staring  at  the  speaker.  The  next,  swift  as  an  arrow,  he 
sped  for  the  woods  upon  the  farther  side  ;  and  the  next 
again,  throwing  up  his  hands  with  a  violent  gesture  of  reso- 
lution, he  had  begun  already  to  retrace  his  steps. 

"  Well,  then,  you  come,  you  help — "  he  was  saying.  But 
by  now  my  lord  had  stepped  beside  Sir  William  ;  the  moon 
shone  fair  upon  his  face,  and  the  words  were  still  upon 
Secundra's  lips,  when  he  beheld  and  recognized  his  master's 
enemy.  '*  Him  ! "  he  screamed,  clasping  his  hands  and 
shrinking  on  himself. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Sir  William,  "  there  is  none  here  to 
do  you  harm,  if  you  be  innocent ;  and  if  you  be  guilty, 
your  escape  is  quite  cut  off.  Speak,  what  do  you  here 
among  the  graves  of  the  dead  and  the  remains  of  the  un- 
buried  ? " 

"  You  no  murderer  ?  "  inquired  Secundra.  "  You  true 
man  ?    You  see  me  safe  ? " 

"  I  will  see  you  safe,  if  you  be  innocent,"  returned  Sir 
William.  "  I  have  said  the  thing,  and  I  see  not  wherefore 
you  should  doubt  it." 

"  There  all  murderers,"  cried  Secundra,  "  that  is  why ! 
He  kill — murderer,"  pointing  to  Mountain ;  "  there  two 
hired-murderers," — pointing  to  my  lord  and  myself—"  all 


2 $6  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

gallows-murderers !  Ah,  I  see  you  all  swing  in  a  rope. 
Now  I  go  save  the  sahib  ;  he  see  you  swing  in  a  rope. 
The  sahib,"  he  continued,  pointing  to  the  grave,  *•'  he  not 
dead.     He  bury,  he  not  dead." 

My  lord  uttered  a  little  noise,  moved  nearer  to  the  grave, 
and  stood  and  stared  in  it. 

"  Burier«  aaid  not  dead  t  "  excMmed  Sir  William.  "  What 
kind  of  rant  is  this  ?  " 

"  See,  sahib  !  "  said  Secundra.  "  The  sahib  and  I  alone 
with  murderers  ;  try  all  way  to  escape,  no  way  good.  Then 
try  this  way  :  good  way  in  warm  climate,  good  way  in 
India  ;  here  in  this  dam  cold  place,  who  can  tell  ?  I  tell 
you  pretty  good  hurry  ;  you  help,  you  light, a  fire,  help 
rub." 

"What  is  the  creature  talking  of?"  cried  Sir  William. 
"  My  head  goes  round." 

"I  tell  you  I  bury  him  alive,"  said  Secundra.  "I  teach 
Jnim  swallow  his  tongue.  Now  dig  him  up  pretty  good 
hurry,  and  he  not  much  v/orse.     You  light  a  fire." 

Sir  William  turned  to  the  nearest  of  his  men.  "  Light  a 
fire,"  said  he.        My  lot  seems  to  be  cast  with  the  insane." 

"  You  good  man,"  returned  Secundra.  "  Now  I  go  dig 
the  sahib  up." 

He  returned  as  he  spoke  to  the  grave,  and  resumed  his 
former  toil.  My  lord  stood  rooted,  and  I  at  my  lord's  side  : 
fearing  I  knew  not  what. 

Ihe  frost  was  not  yet  very  deep,  and  presently  the  Indian 
threw  aside  his  tool  and  began  to  scoop  the  dirt  by  hand- 
fuls.  Then  he  disengaged  a  corner  of  a  buffalo  robe  :  and 
then  I  saw  hair  catch  among  his  fingers  ;  yet  a  moment 
m^re,  and  the 'moon  shone  on  something  white.  Awhile 
Secundra  crouched  upon  his  knees,  scraping  with  delicate 
fingers,  breathing  with  puffed  lips  ;  and  when  he  moved 
aside  I  beheld  the  face  of  the  Master  wholly  disengaged. 
It  was  deadly  white,  the  eyes  closed,  the  ears  and  nostrils 


THE  JOURNEY  m  THE  WILDERNESS,  257 

plugged,  the  cheeks  fallen,  the  nose  sharp  as  if  in  death ;  v 
but  for  all  he  had  lain  so  many  days  under  the  sod,  corrup- 
tion had  not  approached  him  and  (what  strangely  affected    y 
all  of  us)  his  lips  and  chin  were  mantled  with  a  swarthy  ^ 
beard. 

"  My  God  !  **  cried  Mountain,  "  he  was  as  smooth  as  a 
baby  when  we  laid  him  there !  " 

"  They  say  hair  grows  upon  the  dead,"  observed  Sir 
William,  but  his  voice  was  thick  and  weak. 

Secundra  paid  no  heed  to  our  remarks,  digging  swift  as  a 
terrier  in  the  loose  earth  ;  every  moment,  the  form  of  the 
Master,  swathed  in  his  buffalo  robe,  grew  more  distinct  in 
the  bottom  of  that  shallow  trough  ;  the  moon  shining  strong, 
and  the  shadows  of  the  standers-by,  as  they  drew  forward 
and  back,  falling  and  flitting  over  his  emergent  counte- 
nance. The  sight  held  us  with  a  horror  not  before  experi- 
enced; I  dared  not  look  my  lord  in  the  face,  but  for  as  long 
as  it  lasted,  I  never  observed  him  to  draw  breath  ;  and  a 
little  in  the  background  one  of  the  men  (I  know  not  whom) 
burst  into  a  kind  of  sobbing. 

"  Now,"  said  Secundra,  "  you  help  me  lift  him  out." 

Of  the  flight  of  time  I  have  no  idea  ;  it  may  have  been  / 
three  hours,  and  it  may  have  been  five,  that  the  Indian 
labored  to  reanimate  his  master's  body.  One  thing  only  I 
know,  that  it  was  still  night,  and  the  moon  was  not  yet  set, 
although  it  had  sunk  low,  and  now  barred  the  plateau  with 
long  shadows,  when  Secundra  uttered  a  small  cry  of  satis- 
faction ;  and,  leaning  swiftly  forth,  I  thought  I  could  myself 
perceive  a  change  upon  that  icy  countenance  of  the  unburied. 
The  next  moment  I  beheld  his  eyelids  flutter  ;  the  next 
they  rose  entirely,  and  the  week-old  corpse  looked  me  for  a 
moment  in  the  face. 

So  much  display  of  life  I  can  myself  swear  to.  I  have  / 
heard  from  others  that  he  visibly  strove  to  speak,  that  hisv 
teeth  showed  in  his  beard,  and  that  his  brow  was  contorted 


25^  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

as  with  an  agony  of  pain  and  effort.  And  this  may  havti 
been;  I  know  not,  I  was  otherwise  engaged.  For,  at  that 
/first  disclosure  of  the  dead  man*s  eyes,  my  Lord  Durrisdeer 
fell  to  the  ground,  and  when  I  raised  him  up,  he  was  a 
corpse. 

Day  came,  and  still  Secundra  could  not  be  persuaded  to 
desist  from  his  unvailing  efforts.  Sir  William,  leaving  a 
small  party  under  my  command,  proceeded  on  his  embassy 
with  the  first  light ;  and  still  the  Indian  rubbed  the  limbs 
and  breathed  in  the  mouth  of  the  dead  body.  You  would 
think  such  labors  might  have  vitalized  a  stone ;  but  except  for 
that  one  moment  (which  was  my  lord's  death),  the  black  spirit 
of  the  Master  held  aloof  from  its  discarded  clay ;  and  by 
about  the  hour  of  noon,  even  the  faithful  servant  was  at 
length  convinced.     He  took  it  with  unshaken  quietude. 

NT  Too  cold,'*  said  he,  "good  way  in  India,  no  good  here." 
And,  asking  for  some  food,  which  he  ravenously  devoured 
as  soon  as  it  was  set  before  him,  he  drew  near  to  the  fire 
and  took  his  place  at  my  elbow.  In  the  same  spot,  as  soon 
as  he  had  eaten,  he  stretched  himself  out,  and  fell  into  a 
childlike  slumber,  from  which  I  must  arouse  him,  some 
hours  afterward,  to  take  his  part  as  one  of  the  mourners  at 
the  double  funeral.  It  was  the  same  throughout ;  he 
seemed  to  have  outlived,  at  once  and  with  the  same  effort, 
his  grief  for  his  master  and  his  terror  of  myself  and 
Mountain. 

One  of  the  men  left  with  me  was  skilled  in  stone-cutting; 
and  before  Sir  William  returned  to  pick  us  up,  I  had  chis- 
eled on  a  bowlder  this  inscription,  with  a  copy  of  which  I 
may  fitly  bring  my  narrative  to  a  close : 


J.  D-, 

HEIR   TO   A   SCOTTISH    TITLE, 
A   MASTER   OF    THE    ARTS    AND    GRACES, 
ADMIRED    IN    EUROPE,    ASIA,    AMERICA,^ 
IN    WAR    AND    PEACE, 
IN    THE    TENTS    OF    SAVAGE    HUNTERS    AND    THE 
CITADELS   OF    KINGS,    AFTER    SO    MUCH 
ACQUIRED,    ACCOMPLISHED,    AND 
ENDURED,    LIES   HERE    FOR- 
GOTTEN. 


H.  D., 

HIS   BROTHER, 

AFTER   A    LIFE    OF    UNMERITED    DISTRESS, 

BRAVELY    SUPPORTED, 

DIED    ALMOST    IN    THE    SAME    HOUR, 

AND    SLEEPS    IN    THE    SAME    GRAVE 

WITH    HIS    FRATERNAL   ENEMY. 


THE   PIETY  OF   HIS   WIFE    AND   ONE   OLD   SER- 
VANT  RAISED    THIS   STONE 
TO  BOTH. 


259 


r 


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U.  C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CDSSE5tfl^7 


M   7607 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


